OPERAREALM
by Elana Pavlova
Summary: Roza, a young soprano has been chosen to receive access to a world of all opera and opera people. But she is only there to be inspired, for if a man of Opearealm makes love to her, she will be lost to Reality forever. (complete)
1. Chapter I

_**OPERAREALM**_

Chapter I

Roza made her way through the dense hustle and bustle of the afternoon flea market. She knew not what she was looking for nor why she came. Her restless soul compelled her to wander through the seemingly endless rows of antiques, collectibles and superficial priceless junk. Roza was a young opera singer. Today was her day off from her relentless study as a graduate student at the conservatoire. What better way to spend it than to stroll down the old village market and browse for props, relics and better yet, vintage clothes? The month before, Roza had picked up an exquisite Empire style white lace gown that made her feel as prim and as regal as the opera heroine in the operatic scene she was currently studying. Who knew what other wonderful treasures this month's antique market could hold?

As Roza was strolling down the final row, a sudden flash of bright light caught her attention. It was a large, dark, antique full-length mirror. The great structure loomed before her, its gothic beauty enticing her to approach it. She reached out to touch it.

"You are a singer aren't you?" a voice behind her suddenly inquired. Roza started and spun around to face a strange old woman adorned in gypsy attire who was the dealer of this booth.

Roza looked at her. "How did you know?"

The gypsy woman smiled strangely. "I don't know. I just know. You look like a singer to me. And this mirror..." she walked over to it slowly and stroked its intricate carvings of angels, cherubs, flowers, lyres and nymphs. "This mirror belonged to a great one once."

Roza was intrigued. "Really?"

The gypsy woman nodded. "Her name was Alexandra Vilis. She was an extremely promising young singer at the conservatoire back in the 1920's. There was nothing that this girl couldn't sing. And did not only she possess the most exquisite of soprano voices...but also a stage presence to match. Her interpretations were considered out of this world, she inspired the directors to take the stagings down new roads. Nobody knew how she did it...how such a young and relatively inexperienced young singer could create such authentic and exquisite art. Word of such a divine talent traveled fast, and opera lovers and officials from all over came to see her student performances alone. Such a prodigy she was..." the gypsy woman trailed off and then gave a great sigh and Roza who was intrigued and therefore, listening to every word of this fascinating story picked up on it. Something was not right.

"So what became of Miss. Vilis?" Roza asked eagerly.

There was a long silence and the gypsy woman turned and looked away, a far away look in her eyes. "No one knows. She was bound for world-wide stardom, everyone knew that. She was even engaged to sing at the Metropolitan. But then...one night...not long after a glorious gala performance at the conservatoire...she just disappeared."

"Oh my goodness..." Roza said with a gasp. "That's terrible...And they never found her?" she asked.

The gypsy woman shook her head. "They never found her. They searched everywhere. It was a terrible tragedy for the world of opera. It was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth..."

"Oh my..." Roza commented, once again approaching the mirror. "And this was her mirror?"

"Yes it was. One of her most cherished possessions, they say. It always hung in the dressing room wherever she happened to be singing."

Roza gazed at the mirror. "It's so beautiful. I've always wanted a mirror like this one."

"I can offer you a fair price," the gypsy woman said suddenly.

"Really?" inquired Roza, wondering what her definition of fair was. She happened to know that valuable antiques ran for prices that her meager student funds could not sufficiently cover.

"Five hundred dollars?"

"I cannot afford that."

"Then how about two-hundred fifty?"

Roza thought about it hard. Something compelled her to possess that mirror. Something that she could not explain. "I'll take it." She heard herself say. And what a bargain that was. "That is practically a steal."

"It is perfectly fine by me. I somehow knew that you were the right one to have this mirror the moment I laid eyes on you." The gypsy woman said solemnly. "I think Alexandra would want you to have it. Especially since you are a young singer like she was. May you find the same inspiration that she did."

"Thank you," said Roza meaningfully, still extremely perplexed and amazed by her good luck.

The gypsy watched Roza as she left, a sly expression on her wise, weathered face.

Mesicku na nebi hlubokem...O moon in the velvet heavens,

svetlo tve daleko vidi...your light shines far,

po svete bloudis sirokem,...you roam throughout the whole world,

divas se v pribytky lidi...gazing into human dwellings.

Mesicku postuj chvili, ...O moon stay awhile,

rekni mi kde je muj mily!...tell me where my beloved is!

Rekni mu, stribrny mesicku,...O tell him, silver moon,

me ze jej objima rame,...that my arms enfold him,

aby se alespon chvilicku...in the hope that at least for a moment

vzpomenul ve sneni na mne...he will dream of me.

Zasvet' mu do daleka,...Shine on him, wherever he may be,

rekni mu kdo tu nan ceka! ...and tell him of the one that awaits him here!

O mne-li, duse lidska sni,...If a human soul should dream of me,

at' se tou vzpominku vzbudi;...may he still remember me on awakening;

mesicku, nezhasni, nezhasni!... o moon, do not fade away!

Roza held the climax note in the final phrase, a high Bb flat, long and effortlessly and soulfully. How she adored this absolutely exquisite Slavic aria by Dvorak more than any other. It was a piece of alluring mystical beauty that transcended the incarnation of a yearning, irrevocable, passionate love that could tragically, never be fulfilled. How this piece utterly reflected Roza's own thoroughly Slavic soul and the bittersweet melancholy that had filled her life so far. She had loved like that once! She had loved unconditionally with a soul-searching conviction and passion. Although it had been many years ago, Roza felt as if it just happened to her yesterday. The emotions were vividly fresh in Roza's mind, especially when she sang an aria like the Dvorak. The passion that monopolized her then once again flooded her heart and soul, often reducing her to tears.

Roza had loved and she had lost. She had known disillusionment, deceit, betrayal...the heartbreak of a shattered romantic dream. Her adolescent years had been a dark time, but she found her peace in her art, her music. Music, which would never abandon her or betray her. Music, which would always brilliantly illuminate her life. She immersed herself in the wonderful world of opera, absorbing as much as possible both musically and spiritually. She gained a reputation as being incredibly knowledgeable and passionate about anything opera and her luscious lyric soprano voice blossomed. She was accepted to a fine conservatory, studying under the best and making wonderful progress.

It should seem that Roza should be completely happy, now that she had was truly in her element and had found her place in life, but she really wasn't. It was that soul-searching Slavic influence...that overwhelming yearning to love and be loved. She lived constantly in the world of her operas, those very human musical creations and knew in her heart that she could only find happiness with a mysterious man of melancholy who would know her soul and love her for herself, as she so wanted to be loved. It was a pity that she lived in the present modern day...a time when romanticism and chivalry are sadly ignored or frowned upon. The male population all but ignored her completely. It was not that she was not pretty enough. Roza was tall and slender, but shapely and had waste-length curly dark brown hair, large dark eyes and a clear, creamy complexion. Her quiet ways, old-fashioned dignified romantic air and great integrity and depth tended to scare off most. Roza loved the 19th century fashions and ideals and had felt all of her life that she was born in the wrong century. She wondered if she would ever find love.

Roza snapped out of her reverie and left the cozy haven of the little practice room, closing the door behind her. She must have spent a good twenty minutes or so after her singing, engaged in her restless thoughts. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was a quarter after five and that she was late to her apartment for the scheduled mirror delivery.

That evening, Roza stood in her Victorian apartment adorned in her elegant old-fashioned white lace dress, admiring herself before the new mirror. Her dark curly hair cascaded to her waist and her soulful dark eyes wore a thoughtful expression. How perfect this mirror fit in her romantic world of fancy. Her room was done up in attractive hues of ivory and pale yellow. A canopy with elaborate lace stood next to one wall, a large bookshelf which displayed an extensive array of opera scores, collections and recordings sat at another, while the closets and broad windows with matching ivory lace curtains and a mahogany rocker made up the rest of the space that was Roza's room. Here was a place where she could dream to her heart's content in peaceful solitude and study her scores without interruption. Roza loved that; for she was very much a loner. Dreams had been her main companions since she was a child.

It was twilight and Roza was sitting in the mahogany rocker in the corner, reading through a small pile of opera scores that made up her current repertoire. She had waited for years and was at last mature enough to begin studying complete operatic roles. Contessa in Le Nozze di Figaro, Marguerite in Faust, Juliette in Romeo et Juliette, Gilda in Rigoletto, Violetta in La Traviata, Micaela in Carmen, Tatyana in Yevgeny Onegin, Antonia in Les Contes D'Hoffman, Mimi in La Boheme, Magda in La Rondine, Liu in Turandot and the title role of Rusalka. These were her core roles as a lyric soprano and she very much adored each and every one of them. Many a night she had fallen asleep studying the scores and discovering the secrets that they held.

Tonight, the score was Yevgeny Onegin and the role of Tatyana. She had recently decided that she loved this opera more than any other that she had ever experienced. How completely she identified with the shy, dreamy romantic country maiden, Tatyana Larina she felt that through everything she said and did, she could be herself. Except of course, in the final scene when Tatyana, (now the Princess Gremina) refuses to follow her own heart and settles for duty and honor instead. Although she admits she still loves Onegin she rejects him and he is left devastated and alone. Yevgeny Onegin, who was the most complex, fascinating, and alluring opera character Roza had ever encountered. This was by far, to Roza the most tragic of all operas. She felt that she would rather die than endure such a fate.

"Honor? What is honor? I call it a living a lie if you ask me!" Roza said aloud. "Tatyana is lying both to herself and to the man she married!" She felt a sudden urge to cry. She didn't know why a mere opera upset her so much, but it did. Reservations aside, one day she would sing this role, and then it would be her that would have to reject that handsome, desperate, melancholic man. Opera just wasn't fair!

"I wish I could understand," she said with a long sigh. A passionate impulsive thought shot through her like lightening. I wish I could do more than that.

A sudden intense flicker illuminated the room!

Roza jumped from the chair with a start that took her breath away. What was that? What? It was as brief and as blinding as lightening, yet it seemed to issue from inside the room! But Roza knew that that was utterly impossible so she ran to the window and looked out as to find the source of it. Perhaps a thunderstorm had crept up without her having realized it. But no, that was not the case. The night was silent and cold and clear. The stars shone from above and a full moon illuminated the realm of the night. Roza shook her head in disbelief. She thought at this moment that she might be going a little bit mad, but easily convinced herself that it was merely a product of her overactive imagination.

And then it happened again. It came just as suddenly as the first time, with a renewed vengeance. What is going on here? Roza wanted to know. She whirled around and gasped in utter disbelief. A severe woman adorned in navy and silver robes with long raven hair and a long diamond-studded veil stood before the mirror with her arms raised as if she had just come from somewhere. She stared at Roza with piercing bright blue eyes.

"Don't look so surprised, my dear," she said in her powerful, high voice, "You said the right words."

Roza regarded the mysterious women in immense confusion and disbelief, even fear. "W-What d-did I say?" Roza stammered. "W-Who are you?"

The imposing woman stared at Roza in disbelief. "You don't know who I am? You, the child of opera incarnate? You don't recognize me?"

Actually, Roza did have some idea, she had an idea all right. An idea that seemed extraordinarily eccentric and impossible. Being the opera excerpt that she was, she would have immediately recognized this being as a character from a Mozart opera. But in reality, it made no sense that this character was standing in her bedroom.

The mysterious woman was waiting impatiently for Roza's response. "Perhaps this will refresh your memory," she said. Promptly she began to sing exquisitely a passage from an aria known well for its fiendish virtuosity. She spun off coloratura passages with immense ease and with an intensity in her person that Roza had never experienced in this music or in any other.

"The Queen of the Night," Roza murmured in extreme awe of what she had just heard. "Wow, that was amazing! I have never heard a better Queen," she said dumbly.

The majestic woman laughed, a high piercing sound. "That is because I am The Queen of the Night. "

Roza could not fail to believe her. Somehow, some way in her very being, she knew that it was quite true. "But how?" was all she could utter.

The Queen of the Night laughed a musical sound, obviously enjoying Roza's shock and confusion. "Come, I will explain all." she said taking a few steps behind toward Roza and reaching out for her hand, but Roza took a timid step back. Her face became sympathetic. "Come now, I don't bite," she laughed and coaxed Roza to sit down with her on the peach sofa. "You must understand first and foremost that neither I nor the others mean you any harm at all. You are a champion to me, after all you will likely sing my daughter Pamina one day. You are many others' of the realm's champion as well...because it is beautiful young singers like yourself that keep opera fresh and alive. It is our duty to inspire you, to give back some of what you are giving to us. Living for opera as you do, you have been chosen to receive access to our world."

Roza was aghast. "O my, this sounds so wonderful...but I don't quite understand."

"The mirror," the Queen said lingering, gesturing to Roza's gothic antique mirror which glowed when the Queen referred to it. "It is a door to our world. A world of all opera and opera characters...Operarealm."

"Oh, my," Roza's hand moved up to her mouth. This was a bit much for her to take in.

The Queen picked up on Roza's sheer anxiety. "I know this all must be quite overwhelming for you, but it is all quite real. Imagine the possibilities, Roza--a whole world composed entirely of the passion which you live for...imagine the inspiration you shall receive."

"Oh, yes," Roza sighed, suddenly becoming very excited by the idea. "I'll actually get to meet the characters I portray! And their fatal tempters!"

"Yes you will," the Queen confirmed and then she became quite severe. "But you must do no more than that."

"How so?" Roza wondered aloud.

"My dear," said the Queen. "You will enter a world of unimaginable beauty but also a world of unjust tragedies and wasted lives."

"That is what opera is all about, " Roza commented.

The Queen of the Night nodded in agreement and then motioned for her not to interrupt her. "But you must remember that you are there as a sort of apprentice. You are there to observe Opera as it really is and then use this knowledge to enhance your art. You must remember this above everything and you must not become too involved."

Roza regarded the Queen with immense confusion. "What are you saying?"

"It is the one and only rule that governs the chosen visitor from Reality into Operaland," the Queen explained in solemn tones. "You must not become involved in the life of an opera character, no matter how much he attracts you or how you ache to heal his tortured soul with your love. For if a man of Operarealm makes love to you, you will remain in Operarealm forever."

Roza flushed, rather embarrassed. "I'm not that kind of a girl. I don't think you'll have to worry about me."

"You must remain that way, " said the Queen masterfully. "You must remain chaste to preserve the authenticity of your interpretations. You are a servant of your art and you must not forget that. The moment you neglect your duty in the most extreme way, you will be lost to Reality forever. "

Although Roza was chilled to the bone by the finality of the Queen's words, a part of her wondered if that wasn't such a bad thing. But no, no matter what, she knew had to be extremely careful to maintain total selflessness in her art from now on. Sacrifice. That was what the world of music performance was all about.

The Queen of the Night rose and began to walk towards the mirror. "I leave you now. For my drama repeats itself seasonally beyond my control as is what happens with all of us in Operarealm. You may begin your journey into our world whenever you wish as this door will always be open to you and only you. "

Roza followed the retreating Queen. "How does it happen?" she inquired.

The Queen turned to her once again. "All you must do is stand before it with you arms raised, truly desiring the knowledge it will give to you and the power to pass through will come to you. To return all you must do is find the mirror again. Farewell and good luck to you." And she disappeared into the silvery surface of the mirror as abruptly and as mysteriously as she had come.

Roza remained behind in her small, cozy room in utter shock over what had just occurred. She gave a great sigh and fell back on her bed, aspiring to allow her mind and heart to absorb the exquisite miracle that had just befallen her artistic life.


	2. Chapter II

_**OPERAREALM**_

Chapter II

The following day, Roza found herself in quite the daze. She wondered if she had not dreamed the whole ordeal of last night up and she found herself second guessing herself all day long. She had a harder time than usual concentrating during her classes and rehearsals at the conservatory. However, at least today was Friday and she could have the whole weekend to practice and enjoy her opera. She need not worry about social gatherings and friends, as she never really had many. Just a string of acquaintances masquerading as colleagues who pretended to be as serious about the art as Roza was. But they never were. They saw singing and opera as a job and could never seem to muster up any passion for it. This irritated Roza to the highest extreme, for she saw being the gift of a great voice and the treasure chest that was the repertoire as the greatest miracle that could bless a person's life. She could not comprehend why others did not share her view and her great enthusiasm. Roza preferred her own company rather than being in the presence of those who only depressed her.

In the evening, Roza made her way back to the serene haven of her room not without slight apprehension. Could someone or something be waiting for her in some sort of malevolent enchantment? Roza was extraordinarily superstitious and rather morbid in nature. She momentarily fancied herself as the unsuspecting victim in a horror film and a great shiver went down her spine.

"Nonsense," she scolded herself aloud, to ease her uneasiness by hearing the sound of her own voice. "Although you want so badly to believe it, opera is nothing but make-believe and the characters of the drama are only brought to life by the singer that sings the role. "

Roza turned the doorknob and entered her room. All seemed in order and quite normal, so she heaved a great sigh of relief. She crossed the room with her armful of scores and placed them one by one in their rightful spots. She put all the scores back on the shelf--all except one. With its soft leather binding of sapphire and its glorious, melancholy and heartbreaking music, it was her favorite of all. She clasped it lovingly and closed her eyes, allowing her heat and mind to cherish her most beloved romantic dream. If only it were more than that...Suddenly Roza gave a start. A breeze caressed her long dark curls from behind and she was at once certain that she was not alone. She turned to the mirror and was so startled that she could not cry out! For it was not her own image that she saw...but that of a strange man in old-fashioned clothes! Roza, dumb with awe, stood there transfixed in both fear and wonder.

The image was as clear as if it were some sort of picture screen, though in black and white. The man was very tall and handsome with thick wavy dark hair, virile features and soulful eyes. Roza judged his attire of a dark waste coat with an elaborate high starched collar to be of the 1820's. The man seemed to be in a state of great passion and despair for he spoke desperate words that Roza could not hear and clasped his arms pleadingly. The person to whom he spoke at last walked into Roza's view. It was a beautiful highborn beauty who wore an elegant gown that trailed behind her. The woman seemed as equally upset as the man. Roza could see that she was quite young, probably about the same age as herself, but her features seemed worn and weary as if from years of suffering. She shook her head at the man, her face so infinitely sad that Roza ached with pity for her. But the woman's face was quite resolved and Roza's pity at once shifted to the man. She watched spellbound and helpless as the man fell at the woman's feet and clasped her hands desperately, as if he clearly feared to let her go. The two struggled for a moment before, the woman at last tore herself away from the man and ran from the picture. The man cried out, his arms reaching out for the fleeing woman and then he collapsed, overcome with his despair.

Oh, how Roza ached for him with her entire heart! She had been weeping along with the unspeakable tragedy that had just unfolded before her eyes. Involuntarily she reached out for the image of the tortured handsome man, but all at once the image faded. "No, No! This can't happen! It can't end like this! It can't! It's too terrible! Too terrible!" she sobbed, feeling with all her heart and soul the anguish that these two people had just experienced as strongly as if it were her own. Roza was overcome with the strong desire to extinguish this unbearable agony any way that she could. She was ready for anything. Numb to her earlier anxieties she was only conscious of the Queen's words that resounded in her ear, "You may begin your journey into our world whenever you wish as this door will always be open to you and only you," Roza approached the mirror, and without hesitation or complication she waded into its mysterious silvery depths.

As Roza passed through the mirror, her body began to tingle from head to toe and she became extremely light-headed. Glittery stars manifested in the air and she lost her balance, then her consciousness. When Roza, awoke a few moments later she found herself in a small, red room that seemed to be a dressing room. A small mahogany vanity full of ribbons, perfumes, powers, and other delicacies sat in one corner, a white wicker divider sat in another, a small closet jammed full of elaborate costumes made up one wall, while the mirror stood conspicuously on the other. When Roza glanced up at it, it sparkled, as if winking at her.

Suddenly Roza was aware of voices, footsteps, movement outside of the tiny room, most likely in a corridor on the other side. The voices spoke fast and excitedly and in a language that Roza recognized as Italian. A commanding and rich female voice rose above the rest who seemed to be tagging along at her heels. Roza heard the voice stop at the dressing room door and she heard the doorknob turn.

"Una momento, " the woman said opening the door, her back to Roza. She waved a handkerchief at someone outside and entered the room. She was a tall, statuesque woman with sleek black hair worn on top of her head, flashing black eyes, a smooth tan complexion and she wore a flashing red silk early 19th century gown. When she saw Roza, her dark eyes went wild with sheer surprise and then her expression change abruptly into one of apparent anger.

"Tu...qui? Chi se tu? " she demanded spinning off several angry phrases in Italian that were too fast for Roza to comprehend. But she did catch some of it, a name, Cavaradossi. Then this was Floria Tosca, the famous Puccini heroine who was a great diva and the beloved of Mario Cavaradossi! It was really her! But oh my, by the dark jealous tones in her voice, did she think for a moment that Roza was hiding here to meet her lover?

"Signorina Tosca..." Roza began in awe, trying to begin to explain what she was doing in the diva's dressing room. "Per pieta. Io son Roza," her Italian failed her. "And I mean you nor your great romance no harm at all. In fact, I am a great champion of both of you. I come from a place very far away...in another world. I am a young opera singer and am here to observe opera as it really is. I don't know how I ended up in your dressing room and am very sorry if I have offended you." Roza stopped, feeling quite awkward and realizing that Tosca, an Italian woman, probably did not understand a word that she was saying.

But she was wrong. "Oh, so you are Roza!" Tosca proclaimed, her frown melting into a great smile of obvious approval. "We have been waiting for you!"

Relieved, Roza regarded the famous diva in wonder. "Oh my, I didn't know you spoke English!"

Tosca laughed. "I'm really not supposed to. I'm Italian to the core. But you see, we all do here...as our operas do have English translations. It may seem strange, but it is true. In addition, we not only speak the original language that our operas were written in, but the native language of the character as well. For example, Mimi, Rodolfo, Musetta, Marcello, Magda and Ruggero (who will be all be along shortly) all speak French as well as well as Italian and English--for although they may be of Italian opera, they are really from gay Paris. "

There was a knock on the door.

"Entrare," Tosca sang in her great dramatic voice. And so entered the three sets of Puccinian couples on cue. They were all exactly as Roza imagined them. She saw Rodolfo first. He was of modest tenorly height with curly golden brown hair and dark soulful eyes. Leaning against him lovingly was Mimi. She was slight and graceful with dark brown hair worn up and an ivory complexion. She reminded Roza of a porcelain doll. She was clad simply, but beautifully in a long, cotton navy dress with a crocheted shawl that draped over her shoulders. When she caught Roza's eye she nodded and smiled at her warmly. She must know I have studied her part well, Roza thought, returning her shy smile. Musetta and Marcello were not far behind. Musetta entered first, confidently and coyly dragging Marcello behind her. She was voluptuous and extravagantly elegant in a brilliant pink silk dress that admirably set off her shiny flaxen hair and flashing dark eyes. Marcello was tall with light brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. Like Rodolfo, he dressed simply in a dark period suit, the uniform of the Parisian bohemian. After the Boheme couples, came Magda and Ruggero of La Rondine. Magda was also gorgeous. Her brown hair was thick and glossy and her dark eyes full of life and love. She was dressed simply in what Roza recognized as her grisette disguise of her era of Second Empire Paris. She wore a flowing pale yellow skirt with ruffles and a silken blouse with puffed sleeves. Ruggero, with his dark puppy dog eyes and wavy brown hair, wore a simple student's gray suit and carried a top hat. What a beautiful site these operatic couples were to behold!

Everyone greeted Tosca and praised her for a concert that she had given earlier that afternoon. Tosca was gracious and proud but she turned her attention to Roza. "This, my friends is Roza, the singer from Reality," she said waving her arm wide, in grand introduction. "She has come in quest of inspiration." Within a moment, the focus had turned to Roza, and she was surrounded by her beloved Puccinians. Magda and Mimi were especially pleased to meet her as it was apparent that they undoubtedly trusted and accepted her as one of their own and as one who could transcend their persona and story very well.

But then something suddenly occurred to Roza. The handsome desperate man and sad woman she had seen in the mirror from her room were not among them. Her strange, inexplicable urgency to find them (particularly the man) suddenly filled her once again.

"I beg your pardon," said Roza abruptly to the Puccinians. "But I was wondering... when I gazed into your world from my world just now, I saw a desperate man pleading with a woman to go somewhere with him."

"Ah, opera is full of that sort of thing, Roza," said Tosca with a smile. "You of all people, definitely know that well."

"It could have been anyone," said Rodolfo.

"Don Jose and Carmen perhaps?" Mimi suggested in her eager, soft-spoken way.

Roza shook her head. "No, it wasn't them. They were not gypsies, but aristocrats." She thought hard. "I know not why that mirror showed me that image, but I feel compelled to find these people."

"Then you must!" said Magda dreamily. "It might be some sort of sign! Or even fate!"

Roza was perplexed. "I'm just still trying to understand how all of this works. I don't know why I saw that particular vision, but I do know that I am here only to observe and nothing more." Then it hit her suddenly, like a whirlwind. She knew exactly who those people she saw in her mirror were and she knew she had to see them first before she resumed her further study of the characters of Operaland. "I must ask you something..."

"What is it?" asked Tosca.

"I have just realized where I need to start my observation work here. I wish to start with my roots. Being of Slavic decent, I want to meet some Slavic characters. I...um...need to see the Tchaikovskians. Where might I find them?"

"Why in Russia of course!" proclaimed Marcello jovially.

"Oui," said Musetta. "Where else could they be found?" she said matter-of-factly and elbowing Marcello playfully in the stomach.

Roza was still confused. Yes, without a doubt it made sense that the Tchaikovskians would be in Russia, St. Petersburg most likely, but how on earth would she get there? She voiced her question aloud, "Is Operarealm's Russia as far from Rome as it is in reality?"

"Si," said Tosca and everybody else nodded. "It is a very long journey by train. But if you must go, you may go with us. It is dreadful to travel alone. You see, we are all heading over there for this season's grand ball, which will be held in St. Petersburg this year and hosted by the Gremins"

Roza's jaw dropped. "The Gremins? You mean Tatyana...she is already married by this point?" She was somewhat disappointed, as it was always the character of the young Tatyana that she was most like, and it was the young Tatyana that she was most eager to meet.

"My yes," said Tosca. "You see, all of our stories repeat themselves seasonally. But it just so happens that you have happened to visit us at the time when Tatyana is the Princess Gremina, and when happily both Mimi and myself have not yet perished...our stories will not even be active for several months your time. We are on a sort of break...and thank our dear Lord for that." she made the sign of the cross and Roza remembered how religious the character was.

Roza had scarcely glimpsed the Rome of Operarealm before it was time for her to leave it on the train bound for St. Petersburg. It was an immense city of great majesty and wonder, with its mysterious ancient statues and architecture and she barely saw any of it before Magda and Ruggero hastened her onto a great scarlet train bound Northeast. The journey was a long one, but one which passed quickly as Roza gawked at the vividly scenic terrain of hills, cottages, castles and mountains outside her window while enjoying the pleasant company of the Puccinians. As it turned out, this train was not going directly to St. Petersburg, but rather Vilnius, Lithuania where they were to meet up with some Russians (who were on holiday there) and travel with them by coach to St. Petersburg where the ball was to be held.

"Which Russians?" Roza asked eagerly, intrigued to the core.

Musetta laughed a musical sound. "You really want to see them don't you?" and Roza nodded, grinning.

"We're meeting Liza and her friend, Palina," Magda told her as she cuddled closer to Ruggero.

In the evening, the train at last began to slow as it became apparent that they had reached Vilnius. Roza was absolutely ecstatic! She had always wanted to meet the people of Tchaikovsky's Pikovaya Dama! And where they were, surely the people from Tchaikovsky's other operas couldn't be far off! It seemed that in Operarealm, characters by the same composer, country or period had a tendency to stick together.

The group of four sets of Puccinian couples and Roza left the train and got into horse-drawn carriages that were to take them into the heart of town. Vilnius, one of the cities of Roza's ancestors was an extremely quaint, yet elegant city with gorgeous gothic Baltic architecture, red roofs, cobblestone streets, and quaint cottages which glowed in the apricot evening light. The ride was a brief and pleasant one as Roza absorbed the city's ethnic beauty and breathed the cold autumn air. It was certainly refreshing after such a long train ride.

It seemed as if they had just gotten into the carriages, when they stopped in front of a rustic, but elegant crimson brick Inn. Standing on the steps were half a dozen people who waved vigorously upon the carriage's approach.

"Oh look!" said Magda to Roza. "It's Liza, Palina, Max, Agathe and Ännchen!"

"Quite the welcome party!" commented Roza, smiling as she excitedly recognized the people from Tchaikovsky's Pikovaya Dama and von Weber's Der Freischütz.

"I didn't expect to see you here!" Tosca said upon greeting Agathe.

"Nor did I," said Agathe with a small smile. "I've never been to Lithuania, let alone Russia, until tomorrow."

"It's been loads of fun!" chirped Ännchen happily. She was small and spritely with light hair and laughing hazel eyes, in contrast to Agathe who was tall, dark and solemn, although very graceful and beautiful. "Last season the ball was in boring Berlin. This will be a great adventure! It has been already, making such a journey, hasn't it, Agathe?"

Agathe shrugged. "If it hadn't been for Max here, it would have been truly dreadful."

Max a tall, light-haired young man with gentle eyes, smiled down at her and took her hand.

Ännchen made a face. "Oh, you two...always so lovely -dovey!" She regarded Roza as if for the first time. "I'm sorry, I don't think I've ever met you before!" she said loudly.

Liza, the beautiful sad girl with the black hair and eyes and the white skin spoke for the first time, in a rich but soft voice. "You are the girl, aren't you?"

"The girl?" inquired Palina, the girl with strawberry blonde hair and china blue eyes who stood beside her. "Which girl?"

"The lady from reality who is allowed to visit us, " Liza said matter-of-factly. She approached Roza slowly and took her hand in greeting. "I've wanted to meet you for a long time, Roza. They say you're of Russian decent?"

"Yes," replied Roza. "And Lithuanian as well. I can't tell you how much it means to finally meet you and be here. And attending a grand ball in St. Petersburg! I've always dreamed of such things. Always!"

Liza gave her a small, pleased smile. "I hope you will be our guest of honor for this occasion."

"We'd love to be in your company," Palina put in.

Roza was thrilled. "I'd be honored!" Guests of honor at a ball in her favorite city with some of her favorite characters. What more could she ask for? Her heart knew and guarded that answer well.


	3. Chapter III

_**OPERAREALM**_

Chapter III

Much later that night, Roza tiptoed down the drafty, black oak stairs at the Inn aspiring towards the warm glow of the fire on the great hearth in the den. She needed some warm tea or cocoa, something to calm her mind and soul. She also needed some time alone to reflect on her extraordinary experiences so far in this realm of true opera. She had spent a delightful evening with the Puccinians and some of the characters of _Pikovaya Dama _and _Der Freischütz _conversing over a small buffet in the parlor. She still could not believe everything that had happened to her so far and knew not what the mysterious future held. Roza was restless with the anticipation of it. So restless that she could not sleep a wink and therefore had left her cozy bedroom. She felt as if something beyond her control compelled her to float down that gloomy staircase.

Slowly, quietly Roza entered the dimly lit room. The only light came from a waning fire in the fireplace. An elaborate scarlet oriental carpet blanketed the floor and glossy navy, peach and cream wallpaper which gracefully set off the hues in the carpet adorned the walls. The ceiling was high and quite beamed with a rustic chandelier of brass extending from its center. Two walls of the room featured two gothic high-arched windows; one of which was fully obscured by a great navy tapestry and the other of which was half drawn exposing a lovely crimson velvet window seat. Beyond that was the inky darkness of night. The wind whistled eerily and a branch tapped relentlessly against the windowpane.

The room somehow struck Roza with an overwhelming sense of isolation and mysterious foreboding. She lingered on the threshold for several moments, deciding if she would even enter it or not. Morbid thoughts plagued her overly active imaginative mind and sent chills down her spine. A sudden creak which seemed to issue from one of the fireside chairs made her gasp in fright. Roza took a few startled steps back into the dark hallway, ready to run.

"Please don't leave," came a man's voice from one of the chairs at the hearth. The voice was so rich and velvety, yet so infinitely sad that Roza found herself compelled to do its bidding.

"I beg your pardon?" Roza asked timidly, slowly entering the great room.

"I am very much alone," the melancholy male voice said with a sigh. "Mademoiselle, will you grant me your presence?"

Roza hesitated in uncertainty. "What is it you want, Monsieur?"

"Some companionship in this accursed solitude of mine," the voice answered desolately with a trace of bitter hopelessness in it. Roza recognized a prominent Slavic accent adorning his speech. She immediately tried to place his identity in Operaland, but found herself momentarily stumped. The name was in her heart, but not in her mind. For her mind was reeling uncontrollably and for seemingly no reason at all...

"Please join me by the fireside," the mysterious man said in invitation.

"I will," Roza told him gently, regaining her composure.

Suddenly a tall, dark form in a elegant velvet brown waist coat with a high collar and an silken cravat rose from one of the great chairs at the fireplace and turned towards Roza. Adorned in extravagant 1820's style clothes, he was easily well over six feet tall and had an abundance of thick wavy dark brown hair and sideburns. His handsome features were unmistakably Slavic--severe and masculine, yet very refined with a surface coldness and an underlying sense of incomparable passion and melancholy which shone through his penetrating eyes of sapphire. He _was_ melancholy. And Roza could not mistake him for anybody else in the world.

The mysterious man gazed at Roza intensely. There was a soul-searching desperation in his eyes that inspired Roza with both compassion and a strange excitement. She timidly returned the stranger's gaze, trembling with an emotion that she could not comprehend. Neither of the two spoke. The man preceded to pull one of the chairs closer to the fireplace and gestured for her to sit. As Roza moved forward, the man took her hand in greeting.

"Oh, forgive me, mademoiselle," he said gallantly as it had just occurred to him that he had not introduced himself. "I am Yevgeny Onegin."

"_I know_," Roza whispered involuntarily. Her heart skipped a few beats. He was exactly as she had imagined him. So exactly that it scared it. And it was then that she also realized that he was the same melancholic man that she had seen in that most tragic scene she had seen in the mirror. "My name is Roza," she told him, suddenly inexplicably shy for the first time since she had come to Operarealm.

"Roza," Yevgeny murmured. "It is such a beautiful name. It's my pleasure to be in your acquaintance, Roza." He kissed her hand rather lingeringly and then seated her gently before taking his own chair at the fire.

Yevgeny studied her carefully with his piercing sapphire eyes. "There is something so familiar about you," he said sadly.

"How so?" Roza inquired softly.

Yevgeny considered this for a moment and then shook his handsome head. "I do not know what it is exactly...There is just something about you...but I would have remembered if I had met a lady named Roza."

"Well I knew who you were instantly, " Roza told him. "You are exactly the way I pictured you..._exactly_."

"How?" Yevgeny asked her, rather confused and slightly uncomfortable for a moment. "Unless...of course!" he realized with a pang. "Then it is you who are the opera child from Reality who has come to visit this land!"

Roza nodded. "It is I."

Yevgeny rose to put some more wood on the fire and then settled back into his great chair, without taking his eyes off Roza.

"I must tell you," Roza said. "That it is the people of your opera, that I have been most anxious to meet. Your opera is my absolute favorite."

"Spasiba," Yevgeny said, obviously touched. "But _why_? Doesn't it bore you?"

"Not at all," said Roza, but she wasn't at all surprised by his question.

"It bores me," Yevgeny said bitterly and with profound sadness.

"Everything bores you Yevgeny," Roza said dryly.

"And it wounds my heart tremendously," Yevgeny continued as if not hearing Roza. "Can you imagine how painful it is to live the same abominable story--those same horrible mistakes that you alone are responsible for and _that agonizing rejection scene_--again and again while each time being powerless to stop it?!" He put his face in his hands.

"Oh," murmured Roza, aching for this melancholy man and the sad fate she knew too well. _"_No, I have no idea...not in that sense. But I do know well that we make our own misery."

"Have you ever been rejected by one you adore, and see as the light of your life?" Yevgeny asked her, looking for all the world, as if this was the worst fate any human being could suffer.

"Yes," said Roza calmly. "In fact I have."

Yevgeny regarded her incredulously. "Not _you_," he uttered, in sheer disbelief. "You are young, beautiful, talented...and kind. It is so good of you to sit with me during a wretched time like this."

" 'Tis nothing at all," said Roza thoughtfully.

"Please tell me who was fool enough to reject you," Yevgeny said. It was not a question, it was closer to a gentle command.

"It was a musician I worked with," Roza explained. "His name was Marco...I was about seventeen at the time and he seemed to step right out from one of my operas...a tenor of course. Charming, handsome, articulate. He was much older than myself and I knew my parents would never allow it, but I loved him in spite of myself. I never dared confess it, but I used to write poetry about him in a little notebook I carried around and I used to sing about and only for him. I lived in a sort of unbearable agony, because I knew well that a man of his worldliness could never care for me. I would have done anything for him...but he had other ideas. Being the foolish child I was, I was surely very obvious in my affections and it was not hard for him to realize how I felt about him. So he had a great sport in flirting with me a little bit, to make me believe I had a chance with him. Meanwhile he merely laughed at me and charged me twice for music lessons what he charged others. He was a con-artist and when my parents discovered this they fired him and I never saw him again. My romantic dream not only never came true, but it was completely shattered."

Yevgeny seemed extremely moved by every aspect of Roza's story. He was silent for several moments. "Roza," he sighed. "Is there no honor in your world? What a hellish man this Marco was! If I ever met him, I would dearly love to teach him a lesson! I was wrong to fail to see the rare quality and potential in my dear Tatyana. But I never deceived her! I was and am no hypocrite! But oh...I've paid dearly for it all the same!"

"Oh Yevgeny...please don't look back, it will only make it worse! Why punish yourself even more? One cannot change the past. It took me so long to figure that out myself." Roza told him earnestly.

Yevgeny gazed at her with an intensity that made her nervous. "In you, I seem to see both the former and present day Tatyana. Roza, with your soul, your passion, your steadfast spirit, you remind me very much of her."

Roza was quite taken. She shifted back in her chair. "Thank you." What else was she supposed to say? _He_ was comparing her to the most acclaimed heroine in Russian literature and opera, her dream role. But she didn't go into how hard it was going to be to sing that role on stage and to have to be the one that had to reject a man like himself.

"Do you know what it is to be alone?" Yevgeny asked her in his soul-searching way. "To live a live a life that is fruitless and devoid of repose?"

Roza shook her head. "No, I do not. Although I know to some extent, what it is like to be alone and betrayed, I cannot say my life was ever fruitless. Never! I've always had my music to keep my company. Any turmoil in my life has served as nothing but tremendous inspiration for my music. My art is wonderful, it is always and will always be with me. It will never abandon or betray me!"

Yevgeny regarded Roza with incredulous admiration. "How can you live your life in such a fashion? How can you be so content--"

"I keep busy," Roza cut in. "Your problem, Yevgeny is that you have no aim in life. No dream to set your heart and soul on fire! In reality one would say that you have no life. I must tell you frankly, Yevgeny--_you need to get a life_! If you had a life--goals--then you would no longer be alone. No one wants to be in the company--mind you this is not the case with me I find you wonderfully fascinating and complex--of one that is jaded and constantly depressed about something of which is _their_ fault. I really hate to say this, but it is nobody's fault but your own, Yevgeny."

For several moments Yevgeny was silent, in utter awe of what she had just said. Then he sighed. "I know, Roza...I know...And I must do _something _or this nightmare will never end."

Roza sighed too. "I really do not know what to say. I really think I should apologize. I am a mistress of Reality and I have no business interfering in the lives of men of Operarealm. I have overstepped my bounds and I am sorry."

Yevgeny looked at her in an imploring and incredulous manner as if he had not understood what she had just said. "You have nothing to be sorry for at all," he said in his most velvet tone, and in a voice which was barely above a whisper. "I must humbly thank you Roza, for you have helped me more than you know. "

Roza rose, struck to the core by the tenderness in Yevgeny's velvet baritone voice. "Sir, I have much enjoyed our conversation. But it is late and tomorrow will be a long day. I suppose you will be attending the seasonal Operarealm Ball in St. Petersburg?"

"I was not planning on it," Yevgeny told her. "Most balls are so terribly boorish and depressing. And I am very haunted by what happened at the last ball in my home city. _So haunted!_ But I think I will overlook this."

Roza smiled. "Then perhaps we shall meet again."

"I hope so, Roza," Yevgeny said lingeringly.

Oh...what was it about this man's voice that brought about the most insidious shivers? "Good night, Monsieur," Roza said. And then she left the room before Yevgeny could say any more. She slipped back to her comfortable room where sleep found her and she dreamt of wonderful unattainable things.


	4. Chapter IV

_**OPERAREALM**_

Chapter IV

The dawn of the day of the ball was an exceptionally beautiful one colored of intense peach and full of immense anticipation. Or as it seemed so to Roza, some sort of mysterious foreboding. There was an elusive heaviness in the air the moment Palina woke everybody at daybreak. They had to pack and leave early to catch the final train to St. Petersburg. The train left shortly before eight in the morning and would reach its Russian destination in the afternoon. Once there, everyone would go to Liza's house to prepare for the ball that evening. Roza was beside herself with restless anticipation. Although she had learnt the waltz in a conservatory social dance class once, Roza had never been to a ball in her life. She had dreamed of such a glamorous occasion for as long as she could remember. However, she had to remind herself sternly that this was an event solely for the purpose of gaining firsthand insight for her operatic career. _I am a servant of my art, I am a servant of my art, _Roza kept reminding herself during the train ride to St. Petersburg. She had not realized that she had taken to pacing the train corridors let alone that she had been speaking the words aloud.

"You are a servant of _what_?" inquired a female voice that issued from one of the compartments. _Who...? _She turned to face a beautiful young woman with striking long auburn, large dark eyes and a creamy complexion. She was seated very close to a handsome Slavic-looking man in 18th century clothes. He too, was asleep.

"I am a servant of my art," Roza told the lovely woman proudly.

"Are you?" the woman asked, her voice hinting skepticism. "Then why must you pace back and forth and repeat it again and again? Are you trying to convince yourself as well as myself?"

Roza scowled. "I'm not trying to convince myself of anything."

"Oh--there now. There is no need to get defensive. I was only asking," the young woman said gently, she was not taken aback in the slightest by Roza snapping at her. "I was only asking because you remind me very much of myself once. I know who you are. You are Roza, the new soprano who owns the mirror to Operarealm."

Roza's jaw dropped. "How did you know? How...? Unless you're..."

"Yes," the woman nodded smiling, obviously pleased. "I am Alexandra Vilis."

"Oh my gosh!" gushed Roza. "I know about you! You're the phenomenal singer who owned the mirror before I did! Oh my--people have been mystified about your disappearance for decades!"

Alexandra seemed amused by this. "I'll bet they were." But then her mood changed, to one of a very serious matter. "But I really had no choice."

"What do you mean?" Roza asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Alexandra what happened to you? How or why did you disappear when you nearly had the opera world in the palm of your hands?"

"That is a very personal question, Roza," Alexandra reprimanded gently.

"I'm sorry," Roza said quickly, regretting her immense curiosity.

"No," said Alexandra with warm smile. "You don't have to be sorry. You have a right to know. I will not go into detail, but I will tell you this. I may have been inspired beyond what I thought possible, I may have been possibly the greatest singer in the world, but all of this matters nothing at all if you are chosen by fate."

"Chosen by fate?" Roza repeated, not comprehending the underlying meaning of her words. But in her heart she knew, she knew all right. She just felt a strong need to hear her suspicions confirmed aloud by another person.

In answer, Alexandra snuggled closer to the handsome man that was sleeping beside her on the seat. "Chosen by fate or chosen by love," she whispered. "They are one in the same it seems. Do you honestly think that I could leave poor, discarded Prince Yeletsky behind here when that stupid Liza couldn't possibly see him for his all his greatness--when she went running after that idiot tenor Gherman, only to leave my poor love to despair? No, I would not do it! I am not that selfish. I gave my whole self to him and I am forever his as he is mine. I would have never found such a love in reality! Never! Everyone understands and respects me here as they never could back there. I am my own character in Operarealm and I will never age. I am and shall forever be as I am now. And I have no regrets. I would do it all over again."

Roza stared at Alexandra, absolutely speechless, all of her suspicions about her and the ways of Operarealm confirmed.

Alexandra stared back at Roza, her face searching Roza's in a way that made her uncomfortable. It was as if she aspiring to read her mind. "You have met someone too, haven't you?"

Roza started. "I have met _many_ wonderful and inspiring people since I've arrived here," she told her firmly.

"Yes," said Alexandra knowingly. "But there is one that is above the rest isn't there? One that is utterly special, even very dear to you...a man. A man who has captured your heart, even though you might not know it yet. A man who is haunting your mind relentlessly. This man is what is causing you to pace up and down the train. It is the thought of him that causes you to repeat _I am a servant of my art _again and again, in attempt to get your bearings--to purge him from your thoughts--and to remind yourself of your initial purpose here. This man is a threat to that, is he not?"

Roza was absolutely furious. "How dare you say such things? How dare you make such assumptions when you don't even know me!"

Alexandra raised her hand in order to encourage her to calm down. "Now, now, there's not need to have a conniption about it. That will only make things unbearable."

Roza was so angry she wanted to throw something at her. She scoffed, unable to speak.

Alexandra seemed merely amused. "Ah, but I do know, Roza. I know you better than you realize. I've told you, you remind me so much of myself! If not a word of what I say is true, then why are you so upset?"

Roza scoffed again. But she calmed down considerably. Alexandra certainly had a point there and Roza did not want to make any more of a fool of herself than she already had.

Alexandra extended her hand to Roza, smiling. "Oh come now, Roza don't be angry with me. I really like you and I want us to be great friends."

Roza took her hand reluctantly and then returned to her compartment. They would be arriving in St. Petersburg any minute now and she wanted to be ready. Roza sat down beside the sleeping Liza and Paulina and heaved a great sigh. _Oh my, what if everything Alexandra said was true? _She was not prepared to even consider that.

At long last, they arrived in St. Petersburg, the city that Roza has been the most anxious to experience. She was not disappointed in the least. Everything she had known about this great ancient city through literature, opera, and pictures proved to be much as she had imagined it, yet she was hardly prepared for its sheer intensity. The great dark and mysterious Neva river ran through a place of immense melancholy and wonder. There were colorful structures of marble and stone as far as the eye could see and crowds of various native Russians and visiting Operarealm citizens wandering the streets adorned in fur and wool. The anticipation of the Operarealm Ball warmed the freezing late Autumn Northeastern air.

They arrived at Liza's great yellow mansion in the mid-afternoon and the ladies at once ascended up the elegant marble stairs to undress and rest from their journey. Liza said that they would need this nap very much indeed because the Operarealm Ball was a extravagant event and the dancing often lasted well into the next morning.

"Oh my," Roza exclaimed suddenly just as they had laid down on their respective plush sofas for their afternoon nap and as something very crucial suddenly occurred to her. "What am I to wear to such an occasion? I have no ball gowns with me! What am I to do?"

Liza yawned, for she was quite exhausted. "Oh, do not worry, Roza. Everything has been provided for you."

"Indeed it has," added Palina. "For you are our guest, Roza."

"Thank you," Roza responded, but she still didn't completely understand and while she was not vain, felt that if she didn't have an appropriate dress to wear to the grand ball it would be dreadful beyond dreadful.

"Wait until you see it, Roza," said Palina cheerfully. "It's the most gorgeous shade of sapphire silk and in a style that will suit you wonderfully. Really Roza...do you think that Operarealm would not provide the very best for its chosen and honored guest?" And with that, Roza was suddenly reassured and not another word was said. It was time to get some rest for the exciting evening that lay only hours ahead.

Roza was so excited that she barely slept at all. Just when she felt herself really starting to doze off, the maid came in and woke the ladies up to start preparing for the ball. When the maid, Anya produced the gown that Roza was to wear for the occasion, Roza gasped. It had to be _the_ most gorgeous dress that she had ever seen in her entire life! In the Empire style, it was a radiant sapphire silk with short, elegant puffed sleeves with silver trim and a high waste with intricate silver embellishments at the bodice. It came with glittering silver satin shoes, silver evening gloves and a tiara that bore resemblance to the curly designs on the dress. Roza thought that it was both glamorous enough for Tosca to wear, yet still simple enough for Tatyana. It was the ultimate dress of her dreams.

Several maids arrived to help the ladies dress for the ball. Liza was wearing a lovely, massive 18th Century gown of emerald green and black velvet and taffeta and Palina, one of similar style of pale blue and gold silk. Both dresses employed exquisite embroidery work at the bodice and had long sleeves with lace. The maids puffed and twisted their hair up in eccentric period styles and then they turned to Roza, who was all too happy to have her hair done. She absolutely loved having someone to play with her hair. Liza and Palina stood close by commenting as they saw fit, dictating what should be done. Roza could not understand much of what they said, because they spoke in their native Russian, but understood at once when they had finished, for the women produced a gleeful, "Da!" and led Roza to a full-length mirror.

Roza gasped at what she saw. A romantic old-fashioned operatic beauty gazed back at her. The sapphire dress fit like a glove and her long hair had been twisted up in an ornate bun which complimented the tiara. A few stray curls cascaded gracefully around her lovely face. As an after thought, dark red lip stain was applied to her lips and a slight blush added to rosen up her pale cheeks. She could stepped right out of an opera.

"Oh my, Liza, Paulina--dear friends--I cannot thank you enough for helping me like this!" Roza gushed, twirling her skirts about and admiring her reflection.

"Oh, think nothing of it," Liza told her and Palina nodded in agreement. "We are so glad to know you." Liza looked at a small, golden clock on her vanity stand. "Oh my! Look at the time! It's after half past six! I was supposed to meet Gherman down on the porch minutes ago! I must leave you girls now. But I will certainly see you again very soon during the ball." And with that, Liza glided down the stairs without allowing the two girls to say little more than a "Do svidaniya!


	5. Chapter V

_**OPERAREALM**_

Chapter V

Roza felt like Cinderella as she rode in the beautiful white, horse-drawn carriage and gazed out at the beautiful St. Petersburg evening. A sea of other equally elegant carriages rode on either side of her and brilliant fireworks lit the star-filled sky. Palina told her that this was the first clear evening St. Petersburg had seen in a very long time and that she did not expect it to happen again soon as it was late autumn and winters here were extremely long and fierce. Roza noted that every time the fireworks lit up the night, they revealed a frozen, snowy ground. They crossed the Neva, without a doubt the coldest, blackest, most mysterious river Roza had ever seen. She knew that they were quite close to their destination as she remembered from her reading of Pushkin that the Gremin's mansion was near the Neva. She could barely suppress her extreme elation. Especially when the carriage stopped before an immense, beautifully lit stone mansion where already dozens upon dozens of carriages were parked. She had reached the ball of her dreams at last.

Several couples in colorful costumes, some sporting glittering masks, walked through the gate and greeted old friends and acquaintances in the magnificent marble hall. Roza recognized the Puccinians: Mimi, Rodolfo, Musetta, Marcello, Schaunard, Colline, Magda (along with sidekicks Yvette, Bianca, and Suzy), Ruggero, Lisette, Prunier, Tosca, Cavaradossi, (as well as several others she assumed were from his other operas) immediately and they greeted her.

"Absolutely charming," Tosca said, admiring Roza's sapphire gown. Tosca herself was clad in an exceptionally stunning bright scarlet one with a long train, leaving no one in doubt as to her occupation as an opera diva.

"Gorgeous beyond gorgeous!" gushed Magda in her elegant peach satin.

"Grazie," Roza responded graciously, as she watched Tosca and Cavaradossi and Magda and Ruggero walk in arm and arm. _Oh, to have a love like that! _Roza thought suddenly with a great sigh.

"Roza, dear, are you okay?" came a familiar female voice on her right. It was Alexandra in a elegant 18th Century pale green silk.

"Yes, I'm fine." Roza replied curtly.

"I understand you, Roza," said Alexandra looking at her intently. "Do take heart, I'm sure you'll find your great love before the night's out!"

Roza blushed. "But that is not what I am here for! This a social function--convenient because I get to meet so many characters. This is very crucial inspiration for my work."

"Yes it is, indeed," agreed Alexandra, but her smile was sly. "Then if you value your work as much as I did once, then I advise you to be on your guard. For this is the sort of place where the unexpected happens. This is the very occasion which started my whole ordeal. Come to think of it, this very place as well...for St. Petersburg was hosting the Operarealm ball that season as well..."

"Reminiscing, my darling?" came a rich male voice from behind Alexandra. It was Prince Yeletsky.

"Da," said Alexandra smilingly lovingly at her husband as he took her side. "Dearest, this is my friend, Roza, she comes from the land of Reality."

Yeletsky bowed. "Then I am very pleased to meet you. Alexandra came from Reality, and she is truly an angel."

Alexandra took Yeletsky's arm lovingly and they walked to the ballroom where the Polonaise from Tchaikovsky's _Yevgeny Onegin _had just begun to play. The orchestra echoed heavenly from the ornate ballroom where Roza could see that several couples were already dancing.

"Roza!" called Ännchen, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. "What are you doing standing out here all by yourself? Come in and join the party!" and she took Roza by the arm and led her towards the ballroom. "There are many people inside who are anxious to meet you." And indeed, just inside there was a huge congregation of Mozartians, and characters from the operas by Richard Strauss, von Weber, Beethoven's _Fidelio_, and the operettas by J. Strauss and Lehar, all of whom seemed to remain together. It _did_ make sense to Roza, for after all they were all from German-speaking countries. She met among others, Konstanze and Belmonte from _Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail_, Il Conte and La Contessa from _Le Nozze di Figaro_, Susanna, Cherubino, Figaro (who was currently conversing with Rossini's Figaro), Fioridiligi, Dorabella, Despina, from _Cosi fan Tutte_, Sandrina and Serpetta from _La Finta Giardiniera_, Donna Anna, Don Ottavio, Donna Elvira, Zerlina, Masetto (all of whom knew not were the title character from _Don Giovanni _was at the moment, Elvira remarked bitterly "that he was most likely adding more names to that disgusting catalogue of his"), as well as the Marschallin, Octavian, Sophie, Baron Ochs, from _Der Rosenkavalier_, and Arabella and Mandryka from _Arabella_. The room was packed full of characters! There were circles representing operatic turn-outs from Monteverdi, Lully, Handel, Gluck, Mozart, Schubert, Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti, Verdi, Gounod, Massenet, Delibes, Saint-Saens, Dvorak, Janacek, Smetana, Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Mussorgsky, Borodin, Glinka, Prokofiev, Rachmaninov, Leonvacallo, Mascagni, Puccini, Strauss, Debussy, Ravel, Poulenc, Berg, Floyd, Copland, Menotti, Moore, and even operas and composers, that _she_, Roza had not even heard of!

When the lush orchestra began playing the Polonaise from Dvorak's _Rusalka_, Roza spotted Rusalka herself in a far corner, speaking to a lovely dark-haired lady in Czech, whom she soon learned was Marenka from Smetana's _Prodaná Nevesta_. Rusalka had long, cascading flaxen golden hair and wore a long turquoise gown which shimmered when it hit the light. She looked gorgeous, but terribly unhappy. It was obvious that Marenka was trying very hard to cheer her up. The reason for Rusalka's distress became evident, for the tall dark-haired gentleman that Roza recognized as Rusalka's beloved Prince was across the room at the punch bowl, flirting wickedly with the unnamed foreign princess. Roza wanted to confront both of them for causing the sweet, loving Rusalka so much grief. If the Polonaise hadn't ended just then and hadn't a few couples come off the dance floor blocking them from her view, Roza might have done just that.

The orchestra began to play a succession of Strauss waltzes. The German-speaking crew were obviously very pleased by this, for they let out cries of delight and took to the floor. When that huge mass cleared out, Roza suddenly saw her standing there. In an exquisite gown of ivory and red velvet and silk with an extensive train, was the Princess Gremina--Tatyana herself--the lady that Roza was most anxious to meet. She was slender and graceful, yet ample, and had very dark hair worn in a most elegant up-style. Her pallor was pale, and her eyes, large, dark and profoundly sad, as if from years of suffering. However, none of this was betrayed in the great grandeur and dignity that she had about herself. She truly _was _royalty. When her eyes met Roza's, she at once glided over to meet her.

When the Princess Gremina came close to her, Roza was at once aware of how young she was. Somehow, even though she knew better, she had always pictured the older Tatyana as a mature thirty-something woman like the Marschallin, but she was surprised to see that Tatyana couldn't be any older than herself, in her early 20's.

She took Roza's hand in greeting. "So _you_ are the famous Roza," she said with a smile of approval. Her voice was warm and mellow and sweet, and laced with the familiar Russian accent.

"Da," Roza told her. "I am so pleased to meet you. You are very much like myself and I adore your opera more than any other."

"Spasiba," said Tatyana graciously. "I know you, Roza and I admire you. You are so sensitive and musical and you understand me more than anyone I know."

"Oh, Spasiba! That means so much to me, coming from you," Roza told her. "In my view, you are the strongest and most regal of all operatic heroines."

Tatyana blushed slightly. Yes, she was still the same Tatyana. Although she was exceptionally poised and regal, she was still refreshingly humble and even somewhat timid. "You believe so?"

"My yes," Roza confided in her. "I could have never done what you did in that last act!"

A look of immense pain crossed Tatyana's pretty face and Roza immediately regretted her words. "Oh, words cannot express how sorry I am..."

Tatyana shrugged it off, like the proud highborn beauty that she was. Her face was once again calm, composed, even devoid of emotion. "It is quite okay, dear Roza. You are here to learn and I will be perfectly frank with you on whatever you wish to know," she lowered her voice considerably. "How could I do it, you ask? It was the two forces I could not ignore--society and honor. And when I make a vow I do not break it."

Just then a silver-haired gentleman in uniform with a kindly face appeared beside her. It was Prince Gremin, without a doubt. and he smiled at Tatyana with the uttermost respect and adoration. Tatyana shot Roza a look that seemed to say _"Now do you honesty think I could betray a sweet man like that?" _Roza nodded to her to indicate that she understood and Tatyana introduced her to her husband. Roza, who could read people extremely well, could tell that he was a most kindred spirit indeed. The couple then left to join the rest of the Tchaikovskian group that was forming near the punch bowl across the room, to the Waltz from Tchaikovsky's _Serenade for Strings_.

Roza suddenly felt restless. _Where to next? _she wondered. There were so many people to meet and the operatic crowd was growing larger by the hour. Several young men noticed her solitary state and asked her for a dance, but she declined graciously and politely, even though she knew not why. She did not know what she was waiting for. Roza took to pacing about the ornate white and gold marble ballroom and watching the couples out on the floor. Suddenly Roza felt a pair of eyes watching her intently. She glanced across the ballroom and saw _him_. Dressed in an elegant 1820's black tuxedo with a waste coat and a high starched collar was Yevgeny himself! Roza thought she would faint on the spot, despite herself. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. So majestically elegant, was he! So sinfully gorgeous and statuesque!

Yevgeny watched Roza intensely with his piercing sapphire eyes for several moments before coming to her. He seemed utterly dumbstruck, prey to an indescribable emotion he'd rarely felt and still was not accustomed to. Momentarily blinded, caught off balance, he composed himself quickly and walked slowly across the ballroom toward Roza, who seemed as equally spellbound as he was.

Yevgeny took Roza's hand and kissed it lingeringly. Roza felt her cheeks go red, for his gaze was _so_ intensely insidious! All she could say was, "You came..."

Yevgeny nodded, still holding her hand. "I found for some mysterious reason that I was unable to stay away...and now I am so glad that I did not."

At just that moment, the orchestra began to play the dramatic introduction of a waltz that was at once familiar. Both of them recognized it at once, and felt at once.

"May I have this dance?" Yevgeny murmured, as if in a trance.

"Da," said Roza. And he led her out onto the dance floor to the opening strains of Tchaikovsky's exquisitely dreamy Thornrose Waltz from _Sleeping Beauty_.

Roza ultimately felt as she was soaring on top of the clouds as Yevgeny swept her around the ballroom. He was a most fabulous dancer, Roza had always assumed that but she had no idea, nor did she have any idea how it would feel to waltz with him. It was as if they were the only two in the universe. Although the room was full of people, many of whose eyes were on the two of them, neither Roza nor Yevgeny were aware of anything but the other. _This must be what heaven is like_, Roza mused. This was _their_ waltz. However, their dancing did not stop its conclusion, where Yevgeny spun her in wildly in a circle. They waltzed to Tchaikovsky's waltzes from _The_ _Nutcracker_ and _Swan Lake,_ and the Waltz from Dvorak's _Serenade for Strings_.

It happened during the _Serenade for Strings _Waltz. Perhaps it was because this waltz was somewhat slower than the others, perhaps some immense and forbidden emotion had built up from the previous waltzes--Yevgeny had slowly (and unconsciously) drawn Roza closer and closer to him. Only when the waltz ended in its abrupt manner, did Roza realize that she was in his arms. Coming unwillingly to her senses, as if awakening from a dream, Roza withdrew herself suddenly. What did she think she was getting herself into anyways? The Queen's warning echoed fresh in her mind, _"You must not become too involved in the life of an opera character, no matter how much he attracts you or how you ache to heal his tortured soul with your love. For if a man of Operaland makes love to you, you will remain in Operaland forever." _She really did feel as if she had awoken from a beautiful dream...

Yevgeny stared at Roza imploringly, confused by Roza's sudden apprehensive motions, and clearly overcome with passion, intense romantic passion. In desperation, he took her hand and led her away from the crowd of curious operatic onlookers.

"Oh...Roza!" Yevgeny murmured. Words failing him, he caught Roza in a passionate embrace.

Roza suddenly became very frightened. Without even trying to, and despite being so careful she had unwittingly overstepped her bounds as a visitor to Operarealm. "Yevgeny--I'm sorry!" She tore herself from his embrace and ran blindly, faster than she had ever ran in her entire life, far from the large ballroom (which echoed ironically with the carefree brilliance of Dvorak's _Prague Waltzes_) and down the palace corridor. Yevgeny pursued her, calling to her in chillingly passionate and pleading tones that broke Roza's heart.

Roza knew not how she did it, for it all happened too fast, but she managed to throw him off her track as she ran through crowd and then slipped into a library to hide. Roza locked the door behind herself and leaned against the wall, catching her breath. How could this happen? How? She desperately wanted to cry, but her fear seemed to have drained all the water from her tear ducks.

"Roza?"

She jumped and shrieked when she heard the voice behind her.

"Oh my, you are as white as a ghost!" It was Tatyana, the Princess Gremina, and she spoke to Roza in a calm, soothing voice. "Whatever is the matter?"

"He-he's after me!"

Tatyana regarded her in incredulous confusion and horror. "Who is after you?"

"The man I was waltzing with just now. Didn't you see--"  
"No," Tatyana told her simply. "I've been in here since after I made my appearances and retired early."

"Doing what?" asked Roza.

"Why reading of course," Tatyana told her with a small smile. "I don't particularly care for balls. They have been nothing but occasions of heartache and turmoil for me. I dislike being looked at, having to put on a show. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? I'd much rather sit by myself with a good book and my dreams...they are all I have left. But enough on my desolate fate," Tatyana came toward her. "Tell me what happened. _Who_ is after you?"

Roza sobbed. "Someone I care for very much, but whom I can not become too involved with. Do you know what happens if I were to do that? I'd never see reality and a chance of operatic glory again!"

"I know," said Tatyana gravely. "As you know, my fate is somewhat similar, and every bit as painful. Tell me, Roza, is the man who pursues the same man that I loved and whose image haunts my mind still?"

Roza sobbed. "Yes! Yes! It is _him_--Yevgeny!"

Tatyana put her hand to her mouth. She had somehow expected that response, but it still shocked her. "That impulsive...reckless man..." She understood all at once.

"Oh Tatyana--what shall I do?" Roza moaned.

Tatyana was silent for several moments, thinking long and hard. "I can clearly see that you love him as I do--"

"But I can't--" Roza cut in. She couldn't be in love with him, she just couldn't! It was forbidden.

"--and that makes the situation even more dangerous," Tatyana continued patiently, gesturing for Roza not to interrupt her again. "If you remain here with me and my husband...even under our protection...he will pursue you relentlessly. I know him well. Roza--you must go! You must go far from here where he will not see you--where he will not think of finding you!"

At those last words, Roza broke down, totally helpless. Tatyana embraced her as a true sister. "Do not worry. You are doing the right thing. You live for honor. You live for your career. Listen to me, and all will be secured. My husband and I own a beautiful castle in Czechoslovakia, far from anywhere. It just so happens that we have recently given leave for some friends of ours leave to spend a holiday there. You will go with them there in extreme secrecy--I will be the only one who knows your whereabouts and you will be safe to continue your study there. What do you think?"

"I think I have no choice," Roza said mournfully. "Thank you, Tatyana. You've saved me."

"It is the least I can do for my greatest champion," Tatyana told her kindly. "Now I will send for my dear friends and tell them of our plan. You must depart as soon as possible, if you are to depart at all." And she gave Roza a last hug of reassurance before leaving the room and locking the door behind her.

Left alone, Roza felt beside herself with grief. How could she do such a thing? How? When all of her life she had vowed to do just the opposite! Was Tatyana right? Was she in love with Yevgeny? Sure, he had always fascinated her and inspired her with pity for his plight, but to love him? No, she couldn't! The rules of Operarealm forbade such a thing. It hit her suddenly. She could write to him...leave him a letter explaining why she did this. Yes! He'd _have_ to understand when she told him the truth. He was a restless, impulsive man...surely he'd grieve for awhile and then get over it...as had likely been the case with Tatyana. However, something inside of her told Roza that this would not happen, that somehow this situation was different. She ignored this, and set to accomplish her task at once. Tatyana and the others could return any time now and she needed to be ready to go. Roza found a secretary in the corner of the Gremin library quite easily. Inside was beautiful old-fashioned paper which was remarkably thin and several fancy quills. Roza sat and wrote, bearing her soul:

_Dearest Yevgeny,_

_I must confess that I do not know how to begin this letter, as I am sitting here alone prey to a storm of mixed emotions. If you were upset by my sudden and unexpected departure, I might have been more so. You must listen and understand me. I will explain everything for the sake of the peace and sanity of both of us._

_I have dreamt of a magical evening such as this my entire lonely life. Ever since I have known your exquisite opera, I have been fascinated with you. So many opera people I have known were and still are profoundly hateful of yourself and your impulsive actions earlier in your life. But I understand you and care for you in spite of yourself. You may be jaded and selfish, but you are incredibly fascinating. There is an intriguing depth and potential in your Russian soul that I am very much attracted to and I only wish I could be permitted to help you realize it. _

_Can you even begin to understand how abominably hard this is for me? I sit weeping because I cannot be there for you. I cannot because circumstance forbids it! Do you have any idea what would happen to me, a lady of Reality, if I were to become completely yours? I would be lost to Reality forever! I would never realize my full potential as an singer! I have been allowed access to your world solely for this purpose. I have found more inspiration than I have ever imagined and I know that I must be forever content with even having been given the privilege of meeting you! Oh Yevgeny, please forgive cruel circumstance and take it into your heart and soul to find a direction in your life. I care for you very deeply and I only hope that you will find your peace, as I hope to find mine as a servant of my art._

_I am exhausted. I can say no more._

_Yours,_

_Roza_

Roza wiped the tears from her eyes and folded the letter just as Tatyana and the five travelers, Fioridiligi, Dorabella, Despina, Marenka and Rusalka, entered the room with clear concern in their eyes.

"Are you ready?" Tatyana asked her sympathetically. Roza nodded sadly. Tatyana was holding a pile of shimmering masks and gave Roza a shiny silver one with a long black lace veil. "Some dear friends from a Verdi opera were kind enough to donate these. The others will be wearing one as well so that you won't look so suspicious."

Despina laughed mischievously, obviously quite enjoying the intrigue. "Those fools out there will just assume we've from _Un Ballo in Maschera_."

Tatyana handed a mask each to the five operatic ladies.

Roza sealed the letter in her hands and gave it to Tatyana, who had just noticed it and was looking at it curiously. "Please...you have done so much for me and now I must humbly ask of you one more small favor," Roza said imploring the young princess. "Please make sure that Yevgeny gets this."

Tatyana nodded. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Roza told her firmly. "He deserves this much at least. I just _had _to do it...to explain..."

Tatyana placed the letter in her bosom. "Then I will deliver it shortly. But only after the midnight train--your train--has departed. Precautions must be taken."

"The midnight train leaves in fifteen minutes, so we must hurry!" Marenka gushed, indicating for Roza to put on her mask.

Roza hugged Tatyana one last time. "Thank you--so much--for everything!" She slipped on the silver mask and switched cloaks with Marenka. Marenka's immense black cloak not only matched the mask, but also hid Roza's trademark sapphire gown better than her own sapphire cloak did.

With one final farewell, the six masked females disappeared quickly and silently into the raven black night.


	6. Chapter VI

_**OPERAREALM**_

Chapter VI

Roza did not remember the details of their cunning nightly flight from St. Petersburg nor did she remember that long mournful journey to Czechoslovakia much at all--she was oblivious to anything but the terrible turmoil inside of her. The train pushed on for hundreds and hundreds of miles through the darkness which seemed infinite. She barely slept at all during that first endless night and seemed immune to the comfort that her sympathetic companions offered. The journey was a stormy and dreary one. Freezing rain, hail and sleet from a storm off the Baltic coast pounded on the windows and the wind was so fierce that it seemed to aspire to de-rail the train.

They reached their destination, Frýdlant, a small city in northern Czechoslovakia late one windy, moonless night about three days after the ball. From there, they traveled by coach to the dark, looming castle that was not too far beyond the small town. They passed not a soul, it seemed to Roza that they were they were the only ones in the world. The carriage passed through a dark forest with tall, frozen, sinister trees that seemed to glower and claw downward at them. The forbidding surroundings only served to worsen Roza's excruciating sense of desolation.

None of the travelers seemed to feel that they would ever reach the castle. Despite its gothic, grim and even frightening appearance in the inky darkness, it was still an extremely welcoming site after traveling for such a long time. Roza had been the only one of the six ladies that was not asleep when they arrived at last. In fact, she had not slept a wink during the entire duration of the journey. She passionately envied her companions' ability to do so and she felt even more depressed and alone when she was deprived of their conscious company. Without their small talk, their intrigues, their constant attempts to cheer her up, Roza fell prey to dismal silence and her own obsessive devastating thoughts. How momentarily peaceful she was when the carriage stopped in front of the castle and she became occupied with the task of waking the ladies up and helping the at first confused, but essentially exhausted and grateful coachman with their things! However, after the initial reactions of the ladies to their accommodations, they fell silent once again. The ladies were merely awake enough to pursue a more proper place to sleep. When the doorman began to lead them by candlelight up the windy staircase and into the gloom beyond, Roza too, at last began to feel the heavy pull of exhaustion. Three days of extreme turmoil with neither sleep nor repose had ultimately taken the toll on her body. Her room on the third floor of the castle was dark, drafty and _eerie_, but she took no notice of it. She was an invalid and utterly oblivious to anything but her overwhelming longing for physical and emotional rest. Roza collapsed fully-clothed on the great canopy bed and promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

_Elle a fui, la tourterelle!...She has fled--the turtledove!_

_Ah! souvenir trop doux! ...Ah, memory too sweet!_

_Image trop cruelle!...Imagine too cruel!_

_Helas! a mes genoux...Alas, at my knees_

_je l'entends, je le vois!...I hear him, I see him!_

_Elle a fui, la tourterelle...She has fled--the turtledove._

_Elle a fui loin de toi; _..._She has fled far from you;_

_mais elle est toujours fidele...But she is forever faithful_

_et te garde sa foi...and keeps her promise to you._

_Mon bien-aime, ma voix t'appelle...My beloved, my voice calls to you._

_Oui, tout mon coeur est a toi...Yes, all my heart is yours._

_Chere fleur qui viens d'eclore,...Precious flower which has just bloomed,_

_par pitie, reponds-moi!...for pity's sake answer me,_

_toi qui sais s'il m'aime encore...you who knows if he still loves me,_

_s'il me garde sa foi!...if he still keeps his promise to me!_

_Mon bien-aime, ma voix t'implore...My beloved, my voice implores you._

_Ah! que ton coeur vienne a moi...Ah, may your heart come to me._

Never had the lyrics to Offenbach's plaintive aria had ever held as much meaning in Roza's heart as they did now. She had sought solace in the castle music room for almost two hours now singing every heart wrenching operatic aria that she knew, exploring her soul in attempt to ease her great pain. It was this last piece that really got to her, that had lyrics that really told her story more than any other. Yes, like the turtle dove she had fled, though very reluctantly and was now haunted by a seductive image. The words in the recitative, "Ah souvenir trop doux, image trop cruelle...Helas! a mes genoux, je l'entends, je le voix! (Ah memory too sweet--image too cruel. Alas! at my knees, I see him, I hear him!) really struck a chord with her. For though she tried with conviction, she could not get the night of the ball and Yevgeny out of her mind. She truly felt that she was living an opera. Is this what Operarealm was all about? You were brought here where your most cherished and secret dreams were realized but cruelly forbidden? Was it the profound whirlwind of emotions that transpired from the impact of this insidious enchantment what was to serve as fruit for inspiration for the duration of one's artistic life? Is one forever destined to achieve great art, but live a life that is empty and _alone_? Roza sat pondering all of this, in a state of complete masochism.

Her thoughts of doom and gloom were interrupted only by a knock on the door. It was Despina who asked her to come down to dinner. Roza obliged. All of that brooding had left her in a state of intense hunger. She had slept through breakfast and lunch and had not eaten since the evening of the ball. Perhaps some food on her stomach would provide some much needed comfort.

When she reached the dining room, Marenka, Rusalka, Fioridilgi and Dorabella rose to meet her with sympathetic eyes.

"How are you?" Markena asked gently.

"As well as can be expected," Roza told her glumly.

Fioridiligi embraced her. "You poor thing," she said with a prominent sigh. "I know what it is suffer like that! I too, am most aggrieved. I can't bear to be without my Giuglielmo! I've been pining all day. I regret having taken this vacation. I will be without my love for a week ! Can you imagine that? A week--seven days. It was Despina's and Dorabella's idea to take this all-girl vacation before our wedding ceremony and I am not enjoying myself one bit."

"I too, am feeling rather lonesome," Dorabella agreed. "But the men are in Prague and that is _only _an hour or so by train from here. Still, it is rather lonely here. This castle gives me the creeps."

"Oh you silly girls!" Despina exclaimed with an exasperated sigh. "Do you have any idea how _ridiculous_ you are being. Men aren't worth all that bother! You should enjoy your freedom while you have it! If men please you so much, then why don't you go to the village tavern and find some new ones to amuse yourselves?"

Fioridiligi scoffed, absolutely furious "How dare you suggest such a thing? How dare question our fidelity!" She stomped her foot to emphasize her words.

Dorabella grinned at her. "Do you want to go there after dinner?"

Fioridiligi gasped. "Dorabella--I'm surprised at you! Do you mean to suggest that you'd actually take up Despina's vile plan?"

Dorabella grinned mischievously. "I might. But the weather is not so nice outside, isn't it supposed to snow Despina?"

Despina had finished setting the last place awhile ago and had been tapping her foot on the floor impatiently. She indicated for the ladies to sit. "Yes, it's going to snow, but not until tomorrow. Some gypsy folk I met on the grounds this morning told me so. I'll bet it's going to be a big one--you can feel it in the air."

"Oh merciful heavens!" cried Fioridiligi. "What of our men?"

Despina rolled her eyes. "They'll be fine at their Inn in Prague," she said impatiently. She brought everyone their porridge, chicken, and biscuits and Marenka, Rusalka and Roza ate to the squabbling of the three ladies from _Cosi fan tutte_.

Later that evening, they were sitting in one of the castle sitting rooms when there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Marenka asked the sad Rusalka who was sitting on the window seat and wistfully looking out into the night.

"A gypsy," Rusalka said in a voice that was shimmering and melancholic. It was the first two words she had said all day. Roza had been wondering if she even spoke at all, for in the opera, human beings could not hear her voice.

"It must be one of those gypsies I met this morning." Despina headed out into the hall to the door. A few moments later she returned, followed by an old gypsy woman who wore an ethnic Czech costume. She introduced her to the girls and announced that she would be spending the night.

And so now there were seven. The gypsy woman, Madame Damira, was very lively and grateful. In exchange for their kindness, she offered to tell everyone their fortunes.

The two _Cosi _sisters went first and then Marenka and Rusalka. The gypsy woman's hint of the operatic ladies' fates came as no surprise to Roza, for she knew their stories well, but she found herself shocked by the gypsy's remarkable accuracy. Unless Madame Damira knew their operas well, how could they have known all of that? By the time it was Roza's turn, she was very anxious.

Roza took her seat before the old gypsy. Madame Damira winked at her. For the first time she realized that the woman reminded her _a lot _of the gypsy woman that had sold her the mirror back in Reality. Madame Damira studied Roza carefully for several moments and then took her hands and studied her palms carefully, making "hmmmm" noises. It seemed like an eternity to Roza. The wind outside had begun to pick up substantially and the grandfather clock ticked in the hall.

"Very interesting," the gypsy said at last.

Roza implored her. "What do you see?"

The gypsy woman dropped Roza's hands back into her own lap. "I see that you are a very ambitious, talented and determined young lady--a young lady determined to overturn her own fate. But know this...know that the force of fate cannot be reckoned with and that very soon you will be consumed by it."

Roza was becoming more and more unnerved. "What are you saying?" she asked.

"A storm comes," said Madame Damira with chilling intensity.

"I heard," Roza replied. "The snow--"

The gypsy woman cut her off. "Not only that kind of storm. I'm speaking of another storm that comes with it--a storm of manic passion from the East. A storm in the form of a desperate, melancholic soul that seeks solace in joining with yours and will succeed in doing so. _There is no escaping him_.


	7. Chapter VII

**_OPERAREALM_ **

Chapter VII

Contrary to the previous night, Roza was having the worst time sleeping. The gypsy woman's chilling words kept resounding in her mind relentlessly. Just what exactly did she mean by that? But in her heart, Roza exactly what she had meant. But _how_ could she have known? Could Despina, that sly trickster have told her Roza's situation as some sort of a mean joke? Even though Despina insisted that Madame Damira was not one of the gypsies she had met that day, Roza could not be sure. She knew Despina's calculating character quite well and knew that she was easily capable of it. Roza did not know what to think. Somehow she believed that Despina had better things to do and that it was below her to initiate such a mean prank.

Roza tossed and turned in the canopy bed. The wind whistled eerily around the castle. She drew the quilts up higher, to shied herself from the cold and whatever horrors lied in the ancient castle. She had read a great deal about the castles of Europe and knew for a fact that many of them had extremely dark histories. Dark histories that left behind a trace of the terrible events that had taken place there centuries earlier. Dark histories that left behind _vengeful ghosts. _Her mind kept replaying all the most frightening things she had ever read and seen on television. Particularly frightening was that television program called _Castle Ghosts _where this woman awoke in the middle of the night to find herself face to face with a bloody ghost that was floating over her bed. Roza couldn't get the frightening images out of her mind and she became increasingly paranoid. The eerie wind began to sound like the wail of a banshee, the creaks and groans of the castle began to seem like footsteps stalking toward her.

Suddenly the footsteps grew louder. _Step...step...step...step..._They were coming from the hall and seemed to be heading toward her door. _Step...step...step...step... _The footsteps stopped at her door. The doorknob turned...the door creaked open...

Roza screamed.

"Sssshhh..." said the figure. "Do you want to wake everybody up?" The figure stepped into the moonlight.

Roza gaped in disbelief. "Liza?! What are you doing here?" She rose from the bed.

Liza ran to Roza, embracing her. "Thank goodness you are safe! Please forgive me for startling you--I did not know that this room was occupied. Myself, Gherman, Palina, Yeletsky and Alexandra just arrived a few moments ago. We were initially supposed to go on a holiday to Paris, but the plans have been changed. I persuaded my party to come here after I received urgent word from the Princess Gremina."

Roza still shaking from shock, was extremely bewildered. "Tatyana? She sent you here? But why?"

"To bring word, among other things..." Liza explained. She dropped her voice as if the walls had ears. "Palina and I are the only ones that know you are here. Roza...I saw what happened at the ball...and I have spoken with Tatyana. Roza--Yevgeny is madly in love with you and will stop at nothing to have you."

Roza whimpered in despair. "But Liza--it can't be! I'm here as an opera singer in serious study. I explained it all in a letter that I gave to Tatyana to give to him. Didn't he receive it?"

"Da," said Liza solemnly. "And he has written a reply." she reached into her bodice pocket and pulled out two letters attached to each other which she handed to Roza. "This is a letter from Princess Gremina and with the letter from Yevgeny attached. Read it and you tell me if your situation is any less grave."

Roza sighed heavily and opened the letters, already knowing in her heart what she would find. The first letter with a gold seal, was from Tatyana. She recognized the fine writing paper.

_Dear Roza,_

_I hope that you are well and are finding some peace in your castle in Czechoslovakia. I write to you in great concern, but I encourage you to remain strong and steadfast as I have on many occasions. Roza--that letter you wrote to Yevgeny did not seem to do any good. In fact, it has only served to inflame his passion even more. When he read it, he dropped to his knees and begged me to reveal your whereabouts. I told him that he should know better by now, when I make a promise I keep it. And I had promised you, myself and God that I would not betray your trust. I would no sooner break my marriage vows! Yevgeny is very dangerous to me. He always seems to be haunting me and trying to sway me to do something that is not honorable! It is abominable! I had to leave the room. An hour later, I returned to fetch my shawl and he was still there! Only now he held a letter he had just written and which he begged me to get to you. I told him plainly that you were long gone from here and that I had no means of delivering it. Alas, when he threatened to take his own life, I just had to relent. I will send word with Liza, who is very sympathetic and clever. Everyone from Pikovaya Dama was planning on a holiday anyways, so I know it would not look at all suspicious if she were to leave suddenly and with the group. I wanted her not only to deliver the letter, but to be there for what I know is a very hard time for you. I wish someone had been there for me like that. You will now be among many more friends. But do be cautious about who you reveal your presence to. I trust Liza and Palina, but I don't know about the others--especially Alexandra. I must leave you now. I will attach the letter from Yevgeny as promised. I will pray that fate is kind to you._

_Tatyana_

_My dear Roza,_

_I have been beside myself with torment since your flight from me at the ball. If anyone would have told me that I could have fallen this hard yet again I would have never have believed them. When Tatyana rejected me two months ago, I thought my life had ended. I have been forever doomed to relive that unbearable pain for as long as I can remember. Oh, if you could know the agony of being alone and rejected! It is a fate worse than death. I know you have known such pain yourself. During the fireside conversation at the Inn in Vilnius, I was utterly entranced by your story of suffering. I found in you a sort of second Tatyana. I believed there and then that God had given me a second chance! Oh Roza--from the moment I saw you I loved you, I wanted you! Every word you said just confirmed the fact that I had found an angel on earth, a light in this desolate life of mine. When I saw you again at the ball that night, I became overwhelmed with passion. My passion was such that I couldn't even speak...I wanted only to hold you and make you mine. I know you felt it too...I know you must love me. Oh Roza--why did you flee from me and deny both of us the unearthly bliss that we could find together? I have read your letter a thousand times. It gives me immense pain to read your words of farewell. Oh Roza--you can not desert me like this! I love everything about you and you must know that I will never abandon you. I wish to be your protector forever...to kneel before you and drown in love's agony. Oh how I long and ache to hold you and kiss you and make you mine for all eternity. I must find you, my beautiful Roze. Fate has decreed us for each other irrevocably and I long for the precious moment when you shall be mine. _

_Yevgeny_

Roza discarded the letters onto the canopy and burst into tears, feeling more anguished than ever. "Oh Liza--that letter! It has struck me straight to the heart!"

Liza embraced her. "I was afraid of that. I'm _so_ sorry. I never should have given it to you!"

Roza sobbed. "No, you were only doing what you were told. You were only being a good friend. Liza--this is so terrible! I am weakened--frankly--wracked with temptation. _How_ can I live like this? From that letter, I get the impression that he is going to seek me."

Liza nodded. "I know. Perhaps it would be best if you returned to your world immediately."

"But I can't! The only door is in the country where Opera was born, in Italy. It's so far, there is a storm coming and _besides_, I have so much more to learn!"

Liza smacked the top of her forehead. "Darn, I didn't even think of all that! But don't worry, Roza--there is no way he will find you out here. He doesn't know even know where to look. It's so remote and lonely out here. I'm sure he'd expect you to go to one of the big cities like Prague or Vienna."

Roza sighed sadly, her heart wishing otherwise. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"We must get our rest now, " Liza said stifling a yawn. "My journey was absolutely exhausting and I'm sure you've not fully recovered from yours either. You've been through so much..." she hugged Roza. "Try not to brood...it's hard I know...for you _are_ Slavic. The Slavic soul loves to brood."

"Oh...Don't I know it?" said Roza. "Thank you, Liza." And so Liza left and Roza was once again left alone with her melancholy.

Roza slept very late and she was still exhausted. She had been awake long after Liza had left brooding hopelessly over the contents of the letters--particularly Yevgeny's. She had never received such a letter in her entire life! Never! Oh, how she'd longed for such a love for as long as she could remember! As she re-read the letter, she once again saw his handsome face, heard his seductive voice. She saw the look of passion that had overcome him, his heartbreaking desperation when she slipped out of his grasp. She was utterly unable to purge him from her mind. Nor could she forget the gypsy's chilling fortune. Was Madame Damira right? Was her fate already decided?

A knock on the door interrupted her intense thoughts. It was Despina bringing a brunch tray of soup, tea and biscuits, followed by Liza and Palina. They greeted her and then insisted firmly that she at least eat _something_.

"Despina?" asked Roza. "Where is Madame Damira? I need to ask her if last night was for real."

Despina shook her head. "I'm afraid you can't do that now. She left for Prague at daybreak so she could beat the storm." And Despina left, smirking at the tragic expression on Roza's face.

Liza turned to Roza. "I've met Madame Damira. I believe she is the official gypsy fortuneteller of Operarealm."

Palina shivered. "That woman gives me the creeps. Remember the time when we visited Prague and she predicted your exact fate, Liza?"  
Liza shivered too. "Da, how could I forget? Now as I pass through my story seasonally, nothing is ever a surprise to me anymore...Even though I am powerless to stop it." She became momentarily lost in her melancholic thoughts and then she turned to Roza, "What did she tell you?" Liza asked darkly.

"Oh, nothing really..." said Roza in a tone that was much lighter than she actually felt. "She basically told me that I was foolish to try to overturn my fate, that a storm of desperate passion was coming from the East and that I would be consumed by it." Roza shivered, betraying her anxiety. "So what do you think? Are my precautions useless?"

Both Liza and Palina were silent for several moments.

"I don't know what to say, Roza," said Liza.

"I do!" proclaimed a voice behind them. Despina was back. "I think your girls are stupid if you believe a word of what that old kook said."

Liza was annoyed. "But Despina--she has predicated _my_ fate!"

"Balder-dash!" retorted Despina. "You make your own fate, girls--don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." She went to the windows and pulled the drapes aside to reveal a swirling mass of fat snowflakes flying down with huge gusts of wind. The snow had already accumulated to a point where the ground was no longer visible. "It started about an hour ago," Despina told them. "Without a doubt _this _is the storm Madame Damira predicted...which is no surprise...we all knew it was coming. I don't think you have anything to worry about Roza--that mad Russian loverboy can't get to you in this, even if he knows where to find you and _even_ if he is dumb enough--which I don't doubt: men are _so_ stupid--to even _attempt_ to travel in such weather."


	8. Chapter VIII

_**OPERAREALM**_

Chapter VIII

By mid-afternoon, the snow had accumulated considerably and showed no signs of tapering off. The people of the castle thought that this storm showed promise of being one of the worst blizzards that Operarealm has ever seen. That afternoon, the sisters from _Cosi fan Tutte _as well as Marenka of _The Bartered Bride _were absolutely ecstatic to find their lovers safe on the snowy castle doorstep. Fioridiligi's Giuglielmo, Dorabella's Ferrando and Marenka's Jenik had come up from Prague, braving the elements to surprise their beloved ladies. After the enraptured hugs and kisses were exchanged, the ladies scolded their men for risking their lives to travel in such terrible weather. Roza, who was looking on from the hall, was suddenly hit by a most harrowing thought: _What if Yevgeny is somewhere caught in this harrowing blizzard? _While her mind knew that this was highly unlikely, her poor heart couldn't help but worry. She remembered the old gypsy's words about the storm from the East. What if there were two storms? What if the a certain Slavic man was caught up in the blizzard? Roza didn't want to think about that...she didn't want to think about that at all. Suddenly she heard voices drifting down the drafty corridor.

"Are you _sure_?" came Despina's bright sardonic voice. "That seems about as likely pigs learning to fly...pigs...men...really, I see no difference!" She laughed.

"Of course I'm sure," came Alexandra's voice, ignoring Despina's joke. "Just ask Giuglielmo, Ferrando, Jenik and Tomsky...they've just arrived. They have just come from Prague themselves...and I'll bet that they even stayed at the very Inn that _he_ did."

"Alexandra, my sweet--must you constantly pry into other people's affairs?" said Yeletsky patiently, "I admit the whole situation is interesting, but it is really none of our business."

Roza did not get to hear who and what they were talking about. For she remembered Tatyana's comment about Alexandra well and slipped into a nearby room before the three had a chance to turn the corner and see her. At a time of such unrest, Roza could not be bothered by such gossip.

Roza tried to achieve her peace of mind by sitting in one of the castle window seats and reading a beautiful old gold-bound edition of her favorite British novel, _Jane Eyre _which she had found in the castle's extensive library. She thought that by reading the familiar and beloved classic, she could find some warmth and comfort in her silent solitude. This worked for about an hour or two but then she was once again disturbed by visitors. It seemed that she had picked the very room that all the Slavics in the castle chose to congregate in. Gherman, Yelestsky, Tomsky and Jenik played cards and drank vodka, while Liza, Alexandra, Palina and Marenka sat close by. Rusalka sat in one of the corners, looking as usual, as alone and as depressed as Roza felt.

Roza sat secluded in the long green velvet drapes of the window seat. She had no desire to reveal her presence. As she was making herself more comfortable, she at once became aware of a soft but firm, object beneath her. She removed the object as silently as possible. It was a beautiful mask of black velvet. Roza didn't really wonder how the mask had found this particular window seat. It might have been a piece left over from their flight from the ball in St. Petersburg a few nights before. In any case, feeling particularly morbid and melancholy, Roza slipped the mask on her face. It was all the better; for she might be discovered by one of the three or more who could be spies for Yevgeny. When twilight came and the light was too poor to read, Roza closed the book and merely listened to the conversation. She was about to drift off to sleep, when she heard Alexandra start to speak.

"So, Tomsky...Jenik...do tell everyone who you ran into in Prague," she said coolly. "I don't think they believe me.

Tomsky set down his empty vodka glass and there was a dramatic pause. "Yevgeny Onegin!"

Roza, concealed in her window seat stifled a gasp. _Yevgeny...in Prague? How? Why? _She listened intently, hearing everyone's gasp of shock.

"Yevgeny...in Prague? Are you sure?" inquired Liza nervously.

"Of course I'm sure!" replied Tomsky confidently. "Do you think I wouldn't recognize our Russian brother?"

"I saw him there too," put in Jenik. "He stayed at the same tavern as all of us. You can ask Giuglielmo and Ferrando as well."

"Really?" came Marenka, clearly taken aback. "What was _Onegin_ doing in Prague?"

"Looking for Roza," Jenik replied. "She was rumored to have gone there."

"Really?" Palina asked. "By whom?"

Alexandra smiled slyly. "I have no idea..." She seemed to know something that the rest of them did not.

"Nor do I," Tomsky agreed, not noticing this. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is that he was there and searching for Roza. He had this picture he drew of her--I never knew but our Yevgeny is a fabulous artist--and he was taking this picture around and asking _everyone_ he saw if they had seen her and knew where she was. I've never seen a man act like that...he was carrying on as if his life depended on his finding her. He's mad, that's for certain!"

Gherman scowled at him. "Monsieur, I entreat you _not_ to make fun of the man in love! Do you know what it is to suffer like that? I know too well and I feel great pity for Yevgeny's plight. I hope he finds his Roza soon."

Tomsky chuckled. "I sure would like to be there when he catches up with her. We are always so involved in our own operas and it would be nice to sit back watch someone else's opera for once."

Palina nudged him with her elbow. "That was cruel, Tomsky. Personally, I hope Yevgeny does not find Roza. He is selfish and does not deserve her. Besides, Roza is suffering enough as it is..."

Liza looked at her.

Alexandra raised her eyebrows at Palina. "How would you know? Unless she's somewhere nearby..."

"Nyet...No, Alexandra, she is not," Liza told her quickly. "Neither of us has seen her since the night of the ball.

"Da," Palina agreed.

Alexandra turned back to Tomsky. "Any word on where Yevgeny is now?"

"Well," Tomsky told her. "As far as I know he was in Prague yesterday morning. He was coming down the stairs at the Tavern as I was going up after my breakfast. He looked like he was going somewhere. I did not see him after that. Jenik?"

Jenik thought hard for a few seconds. "I believe it was him I saw leaving in a carriage. I honestly hope it was not though. There was talk in the tavern that some man was foolish enough to journey by carriage in the storm...they said he was heading North...that he was traveling in this fashion so he could not leave any rock in Czechoslovakia unturned...that he was searching for his love! It _had_ to have been Yevgeny!"

Roza stifled a cry of grief from within her hiding place.

"That's terrible!" Liza moaned shaking her head. "I hope it wasn't him either...but it must be! Oh my, Roza would be devastated. Thank heaven she is not here to hear this!"

_Not here, hmmmm? _Roza mused wildly. She suddenly felt as if she were suffocating. She had to leave this hiding place that had come to feel like her tomb. She couldn't listen to another word of this. With every word, these people unwittingly plunged the dagger deeper and deeper into her heart. Roza couldn't bear it any longer. She pulled the heavy drapes aside, not caring who saw her.

Alexandra who was seated opposite the window saw her first. She started. "Oh! That gave me a fright!" She put her hand to her heart, calming down instantly. "Well, whom have we here?"

Roza hesitated, not knowing what she should say. "I am not at the liberty to say..."

"Why not?" Alexandra asked suspiciously. All the _Pikovaya Damans _had stopped playing cards and drinking and were now staring at Roza curiously.

Roza had forgotten that she was still wearing the velvet mask. "I am undercover," she said smoothly, disguising her voice with what she hoped was a believable British accent. "Very secret business."

"...and your name is?" Alexandra inquired, obviously annoyed that she didn't know everything there was to know about the situation.

Roza adopted her middle name. "Elana," she told her and she promptly left the room before she could be interrogated any further.

Roza sighed in complete despair. She was beside herself with worry for Yevgeny. How could he do something so foolish and reckless? If something ever happened to him (could something happen to a native in Operarealm?) she knew she would never be able to forgive herself. Unable to sleep, Roza took to wandering the castle aimlessly, once again prey to her restless and relentless torment. Although she kept reminding herself that it was not her fault that Yevgeny was impulsive enough to pull such a stunt, she couldn't help but blame herself somehow. She had always dreamed of being his comfort and now she might have ultimately caused his demise. _Please God, let him be safe..._As she was praying and obsessing over these agonizing thoughts of doom and gloom, she met Marenka in the bottom floor corridor.

"Marenka," she whispered running to her. "It's me...It's Roza!"

"I know," Marenka said solemnly. "And so does Liza, Palina, Rusalka and Despina. Don't worry--your secret is safe with us. You needn't worry about the _Cosi _sisters either--they are much too concerned with their men to bother with anything or anybody else." she laughed. Her laughter echoed desolately in the cold, dark hallway.

A long silence followed as the two looked down the dark halls, in which the only light shone from their candles. "It's late, Roza," Marenka said quietly. "You really should be in bed. It must be past midnight."

Roza nodded in agreement. "But I feel as if I will never be able to rest again, considering my situation."

"You must try," Marenka answered her, stifling a yawn. She was already climbing the massive staircase, coaxing Roza to follow. After a long sigh, Roza began to climb the stairs as well. But then she stopped short. _What was that? _

"Did you hear that?" she asked Marenka, who had already climbed one flight of stairs.

"What?" Marenka asked, bewildered. "I didn't hear anything."

And then it came again...this time seemingly much more amplified. A loud knocking resonated throughout the foyer of the castle.

"It's coming from the front entrance," Roza whispered, suddenly paralyzed with suspense.

This time Marenka heard it too. "Now _who_ could that be at this hour?" She walked down a flight to join Roza's side, pure confusion on her face. "A traveler lost in the storm perhaps?"

Light footsteps scurried from the direction of the kitchen. Apparently Roza and Marenka weren't the only two up at this hour. Despina hurried briskly towards the main door, muttering something belligerent in Italian about visitors that called at such insanely late hours.

Despina reached the great door and it opened with a long, drawn out creak. Snow swirled into the room with a great gust of icy wind. Despina leaned forward in sheer surprise, blocking the eavesdroppers' view from the stairs. It was as if she couldn't believe her eyes. "You...here...what the--?" Despina, a girl who didn't stammer, stammered.

And then all three of them heard the voice. A rich and most insidious male voice. A voice of pure velvet which was infinitely sad and full of indescribable weariness and longing. "If you please...I have lost my way in this abominable storm. I am freezing and exhausted. Would you be so kind as to grant me shelter for the night?"

"Yes, sir," Despina answered curtly.

The door swung open and a tall, dark figure staggered into the threshold and removed his hat. With his long black cloak, elegant cravat, dark wavy hair, piercing sapphire eyes and intense melancholy--there stood Yevgeny Onegin himself!

Roza, who had never done such a thing in her entire life, fainted dead away. Marenka narrowly caught her before she took a fall down the treacherous steps to an untimely death.


	9. Chapter IX

_**OPERAREALM**_

Chapter IX

"Where is he?" Roza mumbled, awakening on the bed in her castle chamber several minutes later. Marenka, and Despina were peering over her.

"Do you have any idea how bad that looked? Despina scolded. "Could you have picked a worse time to have a fainting fit? I had _quite _a time of it, explaining _you_ away!" She shook her head.

"Despina, leave her alone," Marenka muttered. "She's been through so much..." Roza had started to rise but Marenka gestured sharply for her to stay down and keep the cold cloth on her head. Roza had hit her head on the railing just before Marenka caught her on the stairs.

"If you please..." Roza implored. "Where is he? How is he?"

"Yevgeny Onegin?" Despina asked and Roza nodded eagerly. "I believe he's downstairs by the fire still trying to get warm. He's extremely exhausted, weak and probably frost-bitten..."she stopped, frowning at the look of alarm on Roza's face. "It serves him right if you ask me. The man has gone and made a complete fool out of himself..." she yawned. "I have a good mind to do nothing and just go to sleep!"

"Then you should!" Roza said decidedly, rising to her feet. She went to an old mahogany drawer and pulled out the black velvet mask with the long black lace veil.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Despina demanded.

Roza slipped on the mask and veil which hid her face and tresses. "I will tend to him...it's the very least I can do for being the latest cause of his distress."

Both ladies cut her off at the same time.

"Roza!" Marenka exclaimed in horror. "I can't believe you are doing this! What if he discovers your identity?"

"Are you completely mad?" said Despina. But she had to admit it was an appealing idea. She was extremely tired and did not want to be bothered.

It was Despina's question that Roza answered. "Maybe I am. But I am utterly compelled to do this in attempt to ease my guilty conscience. Don't worry about me. After all, it is _my_ fate as an artist in Reality that I am defending."

Despina just shook her head. "Very well. There is an abundance of hot tea and soup on the stove in the kitchen and there are several wool blankets and quilts in the trunk behind the sofa in the main sitting room."

And with that, Marenka and Despina retired to their chambers, leaving poor Roza to her blind and treacherous act of compassion. Roza took a last look at herself in the mirror to make sure that she was well-disguised, threw on a black wool shawl to shield herself from the drafts and then promptly departed for the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, Roza could not believe that she was doing this. Her hands shook in great nervousness as she prepared the tray of steaming tea and soup. She hesitated for several moments and made several false departures for the main sitting room. Then Roza stalled further by trying to find something else that needed to be done, but she could not. Though she did locate a generous plate of biscuits, which she added to the tray. This was it. It was either now or never. After a brief prayer for strength, Roza took a deep breath and left the kitchen with the tray.

Yevgeny laid on a long red velvet sofa which had been pulled up next to the fire, still trying to get warm. When Roza first beheld him, she thought she would burst into tears. He shivered from head to toe and his handsome face conveyed his discomfort and profound sadness. Roza thought it would be rather overwhelming to see Yevgeny again, but she never imagined how intense it would actually feel. It took all of her will power not to run to him and fall in his arms, to comfort him in every way possible. She loved him. She could no longer lie to herself.

Roza proceeded slowly toward Yevgeny, who appeared to be sleeping--or at least trying to. She set the tray down quietly and walked across the room to the other sofa where the trunk that held the blankets was situated.

"Despina...?" Yevgeny murmured suddenly, sounding slightly hoarse and very confused.

Roza jumped, startled by the sound of his voice. "S-she's gone to bed," she told him shakily, slipping back into her disguised voice. "She was extremely tired and I took pity on her. Although I am not a servant, I will do my best to make you comfortable. I can't imagine how awful that journey must have been." Roza opened the trunk and took out three long dark wool blankets and a blue quilt. She then cautiously removed his icy wet boots and encouraged him to soak his feet. Then she wrapped the blankets around him and told him to eat something.

During all of this, Yevgeny watched her with intense curiosity. Roza hoped that he didn't notice that she was trembling. His gaze was extremely piercing, it was as if he were trying very hard to penetrate the mask.

Roza was becoming more and more uneasy. "Do you mind?" she said, reprimanding him for his staring.

"Forgive me," Yevgeny said. "I've just been beside myself with curiosity as to your identity. Have we met?"

"I-I don't think so..." Roza told him uneasily. How she hated to lie and conceal herself from him!

Yevgeny studied her. "I don't know what it is...but there is just something about you...even though I cannot see your face. Forgive me, why do you wear the mask?"

_Because I do not want to reveal my presence to you...because if you knew that I am Roza I don't know what you'd do...I don't know what I'd do...I don't trust you any more than I trust myself, _Roza thought. "I must wear this mask," she said, unable to keep the great sadness from her voice. "Because of a matter that is of greatest secrecy and my presence cannot be known. Please do not ask me why..."

Yevgeny was totally perplexed and intrigued. "...and your name?"

"I am known simply as Elana," Roza said solemnly. She just _had_ to get out of here! This kind of cruel deceit was pure agony.

"It's a lovely name," Yevgeny commented. "But not as lovely as Roza...I must ask...since you play the woman of mystery...maybe have you seen her. Have you seen my beautiful angel, Roza?" With effort, he slid over on the sofa and reached into the pocket of his damp coat which was discarded on the other side. He reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded it carefully and showed it to her.

Roza stifled a cry. It was a sketch of herself--a most gorgeous drawing with her long curls cascading around her face. It was her exact likeness.

"I drew this of her...I tried my best to capture her...but my Roza is even more beautiful in person. Please tell me if you have seen her, " Yevgeny implored. "I love her and I must find her."

Roza got up suddenly before he could say anything else that would wound her further. "N-no I have not...I-I'm sorry..."Roza stammered. She could not take this torture any more. If she stayed any longer she might give herself away. "I must bid you good night. It is extremely late and we both need our sleep...you especially since you have been through quite an ordeal. You need your rest so you can regain your strength." Roza started to leave the room.

"Wait!" Yevgeny called.

Roza froze, paralyzed with terror. Only two words came to her mind: _He knows..._ "What is it?" she whispered.

"I just wanted to thank you," Yevgeny told her, yawning drowsily. "I feel much better now...so warm.." he arranged the blankets around himself and laid down.

Roza sighed in relief. "I'm glad," she said earnestly. "Good night." And she left him to ponder himself to sleep while she went and cried herself to sleep.

The residents of the castle awoke to an extraordinary snow storm of which there seemed no end. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but white, blinding white which blew down and drifted and piled up by the foot. When Roza awoke that morning, there had to be nearly two feet of snow and the blizzard showed no signs of letting up.

"You did _what?!_" Liza demanded.

It was late morning and Liza and Palina had joined Roza for tea in her room. When they learned from Despina what she had done when Yevgeny arrived the night before, they had rushed to her chambers.

"I couldn't help it," Roza explained. "I felt it was my fault that he was upset enough to go out in that snow storm to start with!"

Liza and Palina regarded her with great disbelief.

"Roza--it wasn't your fault!" Palina told her. She frowned and added two sugar cubes to her tea. "Yevgeny's to blame for being so self-centered! So, he thinks you should forsake everything for him? Oh, the man is purely insufferable!"

Liza sipped her tea thoughtfully. "I can understand perfectly why you did it. But you do realize that you took a tremendous risk? You provided the opportunity to arouse his curiosity, if not his suspicion. As far as I know, he knows nothing but he has been talking about "the lady of dark mystery" that aided him last night and asking everyone here what they know about this Elana."

Roza ignored this. "Then Yevgeny--he is all right today?"

Liza frowned. "Yes he is. He says he owes it all to you. But did you hear what I said? You have made him very curious! In my opinion, this curiosity is his subconscious speaking. His subconscious recognizes you, but he is consciously too dense to see it--at least at the moment. You must be very careful, Roza. Do not give him the opportunity to put two and two together. Avoid him as much as possible, even though heaven knows that you'd rather do the opposite."

"It won't be easy snowed inside this lonely castle," Roza said mournfully. "I feel imprisoned here."

"But you have our companionship," Palina offered and Liza nodded.

Roza sighed. It certainly wasn't the same of course. She was aching to be held in Yevgeny's arms more than she was willing to admit. At the time, she felt that she could not feel any worse than she did last night but she was wrong. From the moment she awoke that morning, she felt profoundly depressed and on edge. When Liza and Palina left after tea to find out what was going on downstairs, Roza felt even more alone in the world. Taking Liza's advice she stayed in her room for an hour or so and tried to read--but it was useless. The words became blurry chicken scratches on the page and she was utterly unable to concentrate. Yevgeny's image had even seemed to invade the pages of the book. All of her life, she had always found great comfort in reading, but she found no such solace here. Roza knew she had to leave her chambers and seek distractions elsewhere. She found the silver mask with the black lace veil, put it on and left the room.

As Roza was walking down a long and particularly shadowy corridor, Yevgeny suddenly appeared from one of the rooms. Roza, her nerves shots, dropped the book she was carrying and screamed loudly in surprise and sheer terror!

Yevgeny regarded her in a way that was indescribable. The closest way to describe it was a mixture of confusion and astonishment. "Elana...? What's the matter?" he whispered.

Roza was utterly unable to speak. She felt a lump in her throat and knew if she tried she would completely break down.

Everyone in the castle came running towards them from various directions.

"Elana? Yevgeny?" came Marenka.

"Oh heavens--what's the matter?" came Liza, pale and frightened.

"What has happened?" Palina asked.

"What _the hell _is going on here?" Despina demanded.

The others just stared at them in confused and concerned silence.

Yevgeny raised his hand, annoyed slightly by their anxious inquires. "Nothing has happened. Elana was just startled..." But he was obviously still very confused.

Now Alexandra took the incentive to ask questions. She left Yeletsky's side and went to stand next to Roza. She was every bit as confused as Yevgeny. "But why did she scream like that? She didn't sound startled to me. That scream was of one of most extreme fright and pain...There is something someone isn't telling us," she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

Yevgeny's temper flared. "I hope you are not inferring that I would _ever_ harm a woman--"

"No, no," was Alexandra's quick reply. "We all know that you would _never_ do such a thing. It's just that she--"

"That she what?" Yeletsky demanded. "I _still _think you should keep your nose out of other people's affairs."

Alexandra ignored her husband. "Well, even if I choose not to divulge them at the moment, I do have my suspicions," she said slyly.

Liza stepped forward, terrified for Roza's sake and very angry. "Don't you think that this cross examination has gone on long enough? I'm appalled at you, Alexandra! Have you no manners? Elana told us all the reason why and as a lady you should not doubt her word."

Alexandra, taken aback, was unable to speak for several moments. She looked hard at Roza, trying with all her will to see through the mask. When she spoke at last, she thought aloud, in a low, even voice. "Elana...what is the real reason why you wear that thing?"

Roza tried to answer her, but a great sob choked out her words. Overwhelmed with grief, fear and humiliation, blind with impulse, Roza ran down the corridor and up the stairs to her room where she could lock herself up and be alone with her tears.

Yevgeny was the last to retreat back to his previous place. He stood for a long time staring at the staircase up which "Elana" had run to take solace. There was something about her manner towards him, her very presence that caused something to stir inside of him. It was something intangible and it was starting to really frustrate him that he could not put a finger on it. It was a magnetic something that seemed to pull him towards her. He felt compelled to comfort her, and even more compelled to learn her secret. Why did he get this burning feeling that it was a secret that concerned him? Realizing that this feeling he had made absolutely no sense, he sighed, shrugged and returned to the main sitting room where the Russians and the Czechs were playing chess.


	10. Chapter X

_**OPERAREALM**_

Chapter X

An hour or so later, Alexandra crept along a dark oak panel in the castle study. She had tired of the drinking and chess playing within the first half hour and was now aching to discover the secret of the mysterious and elusive Elana more than anything. Alexandra was a shrewd young woman who took pride in knowing everything that was going on and it seriously bothered her when she did not. She resented any form of concealment and deception and felt that Elana with her mask and her elusiveness was the very embodiment of this. Alexandra felt more determined than ever to learn the truth, or rather to confirm the surmise which she had allowed herself to put so much confidence in. She intended to do this by means of shameless eavesdropping via a secret passageway. Alexandra felt strongly, that had she not found opera and Yeletsky, she might have been a detective and spy. When there was a mystery in the midst, Alexandra never missed the opportunity to unravel it. And she certainly was _not_ going to pass up the mystery of _la__ f__antômesse_ Elana.

Alexandra flattened herself again the oak panel wall in the study and knocked on it in several places. If she was not mistaken, there was an entrance to a secret passageway somewhere in this room. She could use the passageway to observe Elana when she was not masquerading in front of castle guests. Surely she had to take that thing off sometime! Alexandra knew from her experience with masked balls that masks as extravagant as Elana's were very binding and could become very hot and uncomfortable if worn at particularly long intervals. Alexandra knew that Elana would have to take off her mask at some point...

Now, if she could only figure out where the entrance to the secret passageway was...Alexandra had been in this castle before, but she had also experienced dozens of others as well (she was very proud that she found all of the secret passageways) while traveling through Europe with her husband and could not recall which was which. Everything seemed a blur.

After Alexandra wrapped on all of the panels and pushed and pulled at all of the fixtures on the fireplace, she turned to the large bookshelf that took up one of the walls. She began pressing and lifting the books one by one with no success. As she came to the forth row she spied what looked to be a book holder. Obscured by several smaller books in front of it, it was a subdued brass in the form of a ferocious gargoyle. Alexandra recognized it immediately and gave a little cry of triumph. Then she smacked herself on the forehead for not finding it sooner. Of course, many passageway activators were in the book holders! Alexandra gripped the base of the gargoyle, her thumbs on its wings. Then she pressed it back firmly. With a sharp click, the book holder slid back and the bookcase began to slide sideways. Alexandra stole inside the gloom of the passageway before it closed itself up again.

"So tell me again: exactly _what_ was it that made you scream in the hall earlier?" Despina inquired, with a shadow of a smirk on her face. She was in Roza's room serving Roza an early dinner so that Roza did not have to take her meal with the rest of the castle residents and could elude another opportunity to make the ones who didn't know her situation curious. Eating in front of others with a mask on would not only be awkward and embarrassing but would also, without a doubt, provoke further suspicion.

"Roza?" said Despina, half-annoyed, half-amused that Roza had not answered her question.

"Oh, I'm sorry Despina," murmured Roza, slowly coming out of a reverie where she had been at peace. "What did you say?"

"I asked," Despina repeated wryly. "Exactly what is was that made you scream like that in the hall earlier. The entire castle heard you! Those are _some_ lungs!"

"Oh, don't remind me!" Roza moaned, flushing in extreme embarrassment as she remembered exactly what she had done a few hours ago. "I know it was foolish beyond foolish! But I couldn't help myself! Depression, guilt and anxiety must have distorted my senses for a moment. I was walking down the hall and _he _suddenly emerged from one of the rooms. His appearance was so abrupt that I was completely overcome with inexplicable terror! And I screamed. Mine was a cry of not only fear but desperation! I am _haunted _by him without relent and for a moment, I submitted to the madness that has been threatening to overcome me."

Despina raised her eyebrow and shook her head at Roza. "Lyric sopranos...you lot just _adore _making yourselves miserable don't you? Don't you submit to madness like those weak bel canto women such as Lucia and Elvira!" she tsk-tsked. "And people wonder what it is that gives women such a bad name! Sheesh!"

"Easy for you to say, Despina!" Roza said. She secretly envied the maid for her ability to remain so sly and untouched by pain.

Despina shrugged, picked up Roza's half-eaten dinner tray and started to leave for the kitchen. Roza had already resumed her place on the sofa with the book she was trying to read.

A sudden cry of muffled pain issued from behind her.

Roza turned to Despina who had frozen by the door. "What did you do to yourself?" she asked her.

But Despina wasn't looking at her, but rather at the great fireplace. "Shhh..." she whispered, raising her hand to hush Roza. "It came from behind the fireplace."

Roza watched, confused and a bit frightened as Despina tip-toed toward the fireplace. Despina reached on top of the marble mantle and touched a small silver box that rested between two small lanterns. She opened the box quietly and reached inside of it, pressing her hand down inside of it hard. With a loud click, the fireplace groaned eerily and began to rotate--for it was apparent that a secret passage lay beyond it!

As the fireplace spun around, a young woman was revealed from behind it. A young woman who was hopping up and down and clutching her right foot in pain. A young woman who just happened to be none other than Alexandra Yeletskaya! She staggered, Despina grabbed her arm to prevent the opportunity of any escape and the fireplace slammed shut in its original place.

"Caught--red-handed!" Despina exclaimed gleefully.

Roza was horrified and outraged. "Just _what _do you think you are doing?"

Alexandra glared at Despina, released herself and crossed her arms, showing that she did not care one bit that she had been discovered. She limped toward Roza. "No, _Miss. Elana_, I think the question should be: _what do you think you are doing_?" She turned back to Despina and said in a gentle tone, "If you don't mind, I would like to speak to _Roza_ alone."

Despina grinned superficially and left, but not before she stuck out her tongue at Alexandra when she turned her back.

Once they were alone, Alexandra limped to a chair near Roza's bed and sat down.

"What happened to your foot?" Roza asked flatly. As far as she was concerned, Alexandra really deserved what she got for such shameless eavesdropping.

Alexandra rubbed her stalking-ed foot. "I stepped on a piece of glass on the other side of the fireplace. It seems that some paranoid people had scattered some sharp objects on the passageway once to catch themselves some spies or something."

Roza stared at her. "Alexandra--why are you doing this to me?"

Alexandra sighed, the triumphant look had left her face. "I'm sorry, Roza," she said softly.

Roza glared at her in disbelief. "Sorry? You're _sorry?!"_

"I am," Alexandra answered solemnly.

"You've been nothing but a know-it-all bitch since I've arrived here!" flared Roza, her voice rising. "Do you have any idea how miserable I am? How horrible it is to watch someone I care about suffer at my hand? First you rub stuff it in my face whenever you have the opportunity and then you are caught spying on me! I don't know how you can do it! _Why_ are you doing this?"

"Listen to me, Roza!" Alexandra painfully pulled a piece of glass out of her foot and moved to the canopy to sit beside Roza, desperate to convince her. "You really _must _believe me! Roza--I've been where you are! You must trust me on this one...I want to help you. I can see the agony that you and the man you love are going through and I think it is absolutely ridiculous! Why torture yourself like that? Why lie to yourself and deny yourself the happiness that is _so_ within your reach?! Do you actually think you can return to Reality now once you have glimpsed the dream that is possible and which you once thought was impossible? Roza--I heard you that day when you were in your room. I sense the wishes that are in your soul! And I find it extremely ironic that you considered a certain acclaimed opera heroine--whose name I shall not mention--a hypocrite--and now you are doing the exact same thing! I really admired you for your views on the subject, but now I think you are either really selfish or just plain foolish. Roza will you _stop _playing the victim?"

"What do you know about me?" Roza snapped. "Can't you see how this is _killing_ me?"

"Roza," said Alexandra. "I was you...bolder and perhaps more selfish in other ways...but I was much like you." She lowered her voice abruptly, as if the walls had ears. "You know...it would be much easier if you just gave in. And really...just wonderful." She smiled mischievously.

Roza, shocked by the audacity of her words, grew pale and rose. She walked over to the ornate oak door, opened it cautiously and gestured for Alexandra to leave.

"Fine," Alexandra muttered reproachfully.

Roza caught her by the sleeve of her dress before she walked out the door. "Please Alexandra," she pleaded. "I beg of you...do not betray my presence!"

"I will try," Alexandra said extremely solemnly. And she left before Roza could squeeze a promise in the positive out of her. If there was one thing Alexandra couldn't do, it was make promises that she was not sure she could keep.

Evening came. The snow storm continued with a fury and the wind that had died down considerably in the early afternoon, had returned with a vengeance. The bleak and even ominous weather conditions only added to the feeling of desolation that consumed the languishing souls in the castle. Those who were not prey to this state of mind, became increasingly annoyed and intolerant of those that were and this only served to increase the tremendous tension that had been building in the castle. Despina was quickly losing patience and her jokes were becoming increasingly irritable and mean-spirited. Meanwhile Alexandra, having lost her former attitude of arrogant slyness, seemed genuinely concerned about both Roza and Yevgeny. Roza herself was not sure which of Alexandra's attitudes was the worst and could only pray that she would keep her secret. However, Roza became, if possible, even more on edge when Alexandra insisted that she attend a small party in the castle ballroom. Everyone--Marenka, Jenik, Rusalka, Fioridiligi, Dorabella, Despina, Giuglielmo, Ferrando, Liza, Palina, Gherman, Tomsky and herself were going to be there and she firmly insisted that Roza attend as well. Half a dozen nearby gypsies had even ventured out into the storm to join them and provide some violin music for the party. Roza realized that she had no choice; she knew that it would look rather suspicious if she declined. She also knew that she just _had_ to leave her room at some point. How tired she was of hiding like this!

Roza considered carefully what she should wear to such an occasion. Oh, how she yearned to wear the sapphire silk Empire gown once again! However, not only was she not attending a grand ball (alas!), but she feared being recognized by a certain someone in it. The infamous dress was a distinctive trademark of hers! She sighed and put it back on the hanger and into the wardrobe. She chose instead a simple, yet very elegant wine velvet Renaissance gown. It seemed to suit the black velvet mask with the long black lace veil that hid her long curls perfectly. Black certainly fit her mood. Maybe those who did not know her situation would assume that she was in mourning and leave her alone. Once confident that she was well-disguised, Roza walked down to the party, the black dirndl rustling with each one of her tentative steps.

The sound of violin music drifted throughout the castle and Roza knew that the party had already begun. As she entered slowly, she felt extremely self-conscious; as if all eyes were upon her. However, as she looked around she realized that this was not true. Everyone who had a beau seemed to be immersed in either conversation or argument--as was the case with Liza and Gherman. Liza was upset because Gherman seemed to prefer card games with his friends to being with her and Palina and Tomsky stood between the two of them trying to make peace while Alexandra and Yeletsky looked on. The two couples from _Cosi Fan Tutte _could not be bothered by anything except each other (much to Despina's disdain), while Marenka and Jenik spent their time trying to console the lonely Rusalka.

As for Yevgeny, he sat completely alone at a small mahogany table in a dark corner of the room drinking unhappily. He was adorned in the same exquisite black velvet tuxedo that he wore the night of the ball in St. Petersburg and looked as sinfully handsome as ever, despite the dark circles under his eyes. Roza started when she saw him and he noticed her at the exact same moment that she did him. He set down his wine bottle and sat up, his soulful sapphire eyes at once burning pleadingly into hers like a laser.

_Don't panic! _Roza told herself firmly. _He has every right to be here as you do and you must try your hardest not to give him more reason to become suspicious of you. _But somehow, Roza knew that she had already given him plenty of reason and although she had turned her back to him to initiate conversation with the group, she still felt him watching her quite closely.

"_Elana," _said Alexandra. Certainly, she had been watching Yevgeny and then Roza. "Are you all right? You look as if you've seen a ghost!" her voice was full of seemingly genuine concern.

Roza nodded. "I'm as well as can be expected, my dear friend, Alexandra," she said, surprised by the evenness of her own voice. She sounded so much calmer than she actually was! "And how are you this evening?"

"Never better!" said Alexandra. "Now if you please... I shall ask those kind gypsies if they know any Russian music...perhaps even a waltz melody. I know that you and I share a common passion for such music." And she left just as the gypsy string ensemble finished one of their plaintive Slavic gypsy melodies.

Roza stood alone in suspense, realizing that Alexandra was most likely up to something once again. Roza did not know how much more of this she could take. She really did not! And then it happened...

Suddenly the gypsy musicians broke into melody. It was an insidiously dreamy melody that was at once familiar. It shot through both Roza and Yevgeny like an electric shock. That exciting introduction! That haunting main theme! It was the Thornrose Waltz from _Sleeping Beauty_. The very same waltz played the night of the ball. It was _their_ Waltz!

Yevgeny, who had been brooding in the shadows and had almost seemed near death, was resurrected by the sound of that glorious melody. He rose slowly, savoring the feeling and utterly unable to take his eyes off the mysterious young woman in black. He felt an inexplicable magnetic pull towards her...

Roza froze, unable to move, let alone take her eyes off Yevgeny, who had locked her in his melancholic sapphire gaze, sending chills down her spine. Yevgeny walked slowly across the large room toward her, as if he were in a trance. It seemed as if they were the only two in existence, even though everyone in the castle was present and watched them in wonder. No one uttered a word. The only sounds echoing in the room were the beautiful string music playing Tchaikovsky's intoxicating melody and beneath that, Yevgeny's footsteps as he approached Roza.

Both were hopelessly speechless as they stood face to masked face. Without hesitation, Yevgeny took Roza in his arms and waltzed her around the room...and both once again ascended to heaven. Once again, it was if they were soaring above the clouds together in a divine place to an exquisite waltz...It seemed as if there should not be any time in such a dream-like state, but there was. Too quickly the waltz was coming to a close, too quickly was Yevgeny spinning Roza at the waltz's dramatic conclusion. The very end of the waltz had come...

Suddenly, without warning Roza's mask snapped! At the same moment the mask snapped, she also snapped back to her senses. Roza stopped short, releasing herself from Yevgeny's lingering arms. Her hands shot up to her face, desperately striving to hide it by preventing the mask from falling to the floor...but it was too late. Mortified, and not keen for everyone in the room to become aware of the tears that were starting to flow, Roza turned her back and ran blindly from the room.

Roza knew that she had completely lost it. She could bear no more. She never knew she could feel this way yet again, but she wanted to die now. Anything to end this pain...anything...She ran and ran. Down the long corridor, around a corner, up three flights of windy stairs, around a corner and down another extremely long corridor before she came to a beautiful and inviting tower bedroom done up in elegant shades of sapphire. She glided into the room, slammed the door shut behind her, threw the mask to the floor, and then collapsed on the sapphire canopy in painful, gasping sobs.

Roza did not weep for long before she became aware of the sound of footsteps hurrying down the hall. A few moments later, the door burst open and shut. Roza knew who it was without even looking up.

Yevgeny rushed into the room stormily. He froze a few feet short of the canopy bed in which Roza hid her face weeping profoundly. She felt him watching her...his melancholic sapphire gaze regarding her in unbearable hope, desperation and longing. Several long moments of silence passed. Roza knew that she could hide no longer, nor did she want to. She lifted her face to meet Yevgeny's potent gaze.

"Roza!" Yevgeny gushed breathlessly. He fell at Roza's feet, taking her hands with a blazing fervor. "Oh Roza--I knew you were near! I felt you with me all along..."he broke off, overcome with emotion and savoring the feel of her hands in his. He rested his handsome head in her velvet lap.

Roza, her temperature rising at the feel of him so close to her, sobbed and was utterly unable to speak as Yevgeny continued.

"I once believed myself incapable of love...bound to wander the world at leisure forever. I was so mistaken then...so foolish! And for that, I was punished most terribly. You know my story--I was shut out and denied love just when I was finally capable of it and when I needed it _so desperately_. I thought I was doomed--that I would be trapped in this dark solitude forevermore. But oh Roza...then I met you! From the moment I saw you I wanted to live again! Like an angel you came...an angel to save me from myself..."

"Oh Yevgeny--this revelation of yours...it can't have all been because of me," Roza said weakly.

"Roza," said Yevgeny, tenderly cutting her off. "I have never met a woman as ambitious and beautiful as you. You live every day of your life with such immense passion, a passion which has touched me deeply. And now that I've know you I know that I cannot live without you. Oh Roza...when you fled from the ball on that night, I was terrified that I had lost you forever! I've been scarcely able to eat, let alone sleep...all my thoughts have been of you! _How_ I've suffered!" He lifted his head, still holding her hands in his and gazing into her eyes imploringly.

Roza regarded him, a sudden impulse of resentment and frustration replacing her tears. She released her hands from his and stood up. "And do you think I have _not_ been suffering just the same? I've always known you were dense Yevgeny. I know you too well...How do I know that you won't tire of me like you have tired of everything and everyone else? How do I know that I am not just another one of your diversions?" she demanded sadly, voicing the concern that had been long preying upon her mind without mercy. She took a few reluctant steps away from him.

Yevgeny looked absolutely crestfallen. "Oh!" he moaned with such excruciating grief that Roza was chilled to the core. "How can you believe that? How can you even think it? That I would be that shallow? You reproach has wounded me more than you realize! You must know what it is to suffer like this. To yearn for such a love and to struggle against reason! Know that I love you more than I have ever loved anyone and that I will _never_ leave you! I would rather die! Oh, to be near you always...to hold you in my arms and listen to the lovely sound of your voice for hours on end...to become completely yours as you become completely mine! To live every day in love's bittersweet agony! I'd glad die of such bliss! This is the ultimate dream of my life! Oh Roza--have pity!"

Roza listened to this in silence, every one of Yevgeny's increasingly ardent words cutting straight to her heart and dwindling the defenses that she had been striving in vain to sustain. She knew without a doubt that he was sincere and the insidious longing that was beginning to overcome her was both appalling and terrifying her. Overwhelmed, she burst into tears yet again, helplessly and with renewed anguish.

Yevgeny rose, intensely enthralled by Roza's most recent display of hopeless agony. Struck as he was by compassion for her profound pain, he was utterly enticed by a blind hope that provoked his desire even more. He approached her slowly and caressed her tear-stained cheek. "You weep," he said as if just noticing it. "Why?"

Roza let out a cry of exasperated despair. "Because I love you so much!" the words shot from her mouth as if a enormous dam had burst.

Yevgeny took her in his arms, embracing her with a passion both tender and dangerous. "Oh Roza...I've hoped..."he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her long and full and passionately. The world might have stood still then and there. They were utterly lost in their passion. In this kiss that both of them had longed for so desperately and which had come at long last. Neither of the two had ever experienced such a kiss and when it ended, they were both gasping for breath and weak with love.

Yevgeny, who had recovered first, continued to hold Roza tightly and cover her with kisses. His lips found her neck.

"Oh Yevgeny..." Roza gasped. "You don't know...how long...I've dreamt of this moment..."

Yevgeny released her slightly, so he could look into her eyes. "I love you, Roza. And I've dreamt of this since the night I first beheld you."

The way he looked at her suggested that he had dreamt of much, much more between them and Roza became overwhelmed and afraid. This was not another of her stories or fantasies--this was real. She knew either outcome that transpired would have consequences. "Yevgeny--I'm frightened. Do you realize what will happen to me if I yours? I will never see Reality again...nor the career I've worked so hard on."

Yevgeny's face fell as her words sunk in and he shook his head in protest and panic-stricken desperation. "Roza--you are not thinking of leaving me? Not when we have just found each other again! Know that you can sing to your heart's content here...you can have a finer career in this world with your husband at your side!"

Roza gasped. "Yevgeny do you mean--?"

Before Roza could complete her sentence, Yevgeny took her by the hand and seated her tenderly on the beautiful canopy bed. Trembling, he knelt before her and removed a fine sterling ring that he always wore on his small finger. "I left the city too abruptly to purchase the sort of ring that they use for this in the west, so this will have to do. Roza, will you be my wife?" he implored. "I cannot imagine life without you."

"Neither can I imagine life without you," Roza told him as he placed the silver ring on her finger. "My answer is yes...My fate is sealed: For time, literature and opera is full of cruel and foolish ones who deny and desert those they love just when they need them most and I shan't be one of them!"

"Oh Roza--at last you are mine!" Yevgeny moved to the sapphire canopy and took her in his arms rapturously, hungrily and without passionate restraint.

That night, their passion was fulfilled at long last and beyond their most extreme and sacred dreams. Inevitably and irrevocably Roza became Yevgeny's forever as he became hers. Their fate is sealed. And their love lives on in an everlasting realm of all opera and opera people. Operarealm.


End file.
